The Good Boy
by Wynja
Summary: Robin finds himself trapped between a rock and a hard place, and has to accept the role of Slade's apprentice as the man is just seconds away from killing his friends. (some slash-themes, read the first A/N to find out more. Rated mainly for violence so far, but isn't that dark).
1. Part 1

**A/N: **Okay, so plot bunnies just bite you when you're not ready…

This story has three parts so far (a divided one-shot) and will EVENTUALLY have more.

It starts off in the canon apprentice arc. It's… a little murky, but should be funny enough so it's not dark.

It's slashy-ISH but these first three parts can be read as non-slash but with… events and innuendoes… so if you're looking for a PWP story, I'd like to point you in the direction of Delightful Drabbles… ;) Still, later, I'm PRETTY sure it will turn full slash, but this is a long-term project with infrequent updates, so I'm not making any promises. The three first chapters are a story on their own, though, so hopefully you'll be content with them for a while.. ;)

The Teen Titans and stuff aren't mine, of course. I so rarely write disclaimers nowadays, because this is a fan fiction site, after all, so they ARE a bit redundant, but there you go. The first line is from the show, as are a few words/expressions/snippets elsewhere in the story.

This is written in first person and I've had trouble with 'tempus' or whatever the hell it's called. I noticed that I kept switching… I have TRIED to edit it so I stick to one, but I didn't find a beta for this, so I'm afraid there will be some problems still. Hopefully it won't bother you TOO much.

I'll post all three chapters at once. Reviews are appreciated!

* * *

**The Good Boy**

"Good boy. And, from now on, I'd like you to call me 'Master'."

"Yes… Master." I added the title reluctantly, but he had just wiped the floor with me _and_ been on the verge of destroying my friends, so I _have_ to back down. He called them 'too great of an distraction', and he's right! Of course they are! Escaping, going back to them, keeping them safe, that's all I am thinking about.

He nodded, accepting my show of respect for what it is; a show. He didn't expect more, not now, I knew that, but he is still insulted. Insulted that I don't find his power and knowledge as alluring as he thinks I should. Personally, I wish I would have found it _less_ alluring, because I've learned things during the last week or so, things I had no clue about before… my training has also improved by leaps and bounds, now that I have someone to train with who is actually _better_ than me, who seems to know exactly what my body is capable of, even when I don't.

Well, at least I cracked the bastard's mask. Small victory. In retrospect, though, the whole fight before that had been a mistake on my part. I had attacked him on his 'throne', unprovoked, but hearing him make a recording about how well I had 'progressed' was just… it was just too much. I snapped. I do that a _lot_ around Slade, he knows how to push my buttons, and every time I put my friends in greater and greater anger. Next time he might actually kill them… and how do I know that? Because_ I_ would in his situation. It's scary when you can see the logic behind a deed like that.

The man sent me to my cell –or my 'room' as he puts it– and I went, obediently. I'm not going to put as much of a toe out of line again, at least not tonight.

As I had been dismissed for the night, I showered and changed into my sleepwear; a t-shirt and soft sweat pants. I had been given a comfortable bed, books, a desk, an alarm clock and a lamp to read by, but I don't read tonight. I had to think.

* * *

"Master? May I speak with you?" It was the next morning, six-thirty to be exact, and I was very carefully about to execute the first step in my plan. My oh-so-complicated plan which is simply to try to keep my friends safe.

"Yes?"

"I would like to ask… a favor."

"What kind?" His voice was… not hostile. It might sound weird, because we're supposed to be enemies, and yes, he _does_ taunt me when we fight, but mostly when it's… ummm… let's say… and 'unscheduled' fight. Fine. When I lose my cool. When we_ spar,_ he sometimes chuckles when I get too crazy with my moves, but he gives me constructive criticism. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have learned anything apart from 'it hurts to be slammed into hard surfaces' and I already knew that one… what I'm saying is that he never sounds… hateful… or even angry. Sometimes I can practically see a thought bubble over his head saying 'I'm so tired of your shit', but he never loses it. Last night, though… last night he sounded angry. I hope you forgive me for taking that sign _very_ seriously.

"I was wondering if there was… any way that we could leave Jump?" I asked.

"You want to leave your home city?"

"It's- it's not my home, not really. I didn't grow up here." I knew he already knew this, he knows exactly where I grew up and with whom. I am allowed to wear my mask, but I only do it on missions now. It's not_ my_ mask after all; it's a more sinister version. It doesn't make me feel better, far from it. "It's the Titans' city and… I'd rather not stay here, unless… well, unless that's your plan," I continued. "Master," I added, remembering myself. I'm not sure how much he really wants me to use the title, but better safe than sorry at this point.

"You think leaving will make your friends safer," Slade nodded. I shrugged, I can't very well deny it, can I? He's not an idiot. "However, less distractions might be a good idea. I'll think about it. Finish your breakfast. Meet me in the study at seven."

"Yes, Master," I nodded. I knew the routine by heart by now. If there's no mission, wake-up is at six. By seven I should have eaten, brushed my teeth, and... well… have gone to the bathroom, to put it frankly. From seven to twelve there are lessons, mostly languages, also some chemistry and technology. If there's an upcoming mission I might have to practice with a specific lock or electronic lock pick, for example, but languages are actually the major part. It was that fact that gave me the idea for traveling. I know Slade works all over the world; he explains examples from his own missions when we discuss a strategy or a fighting style for instance. I admit that sometimes I find myself wanting to hear more, but can you blame me? After years listening to Cyborg and Beast Boy talking about computer games as if they were real?

Damn, I'd give all I have to hear them talk about them again…

Still, I can't help to be intrigued! I mean, he's very much like Batman –and I'm aware that Bruce would disown me for saying that– but he seldom has any kind of back-up. One man against impossible odds… they should both be long dead, really, so of course you want to hear their stories!

Well, back to the schedule. At noon there's lunch, a hearty meal, and then I have an hour for either free time or homework do digest it a bit before my physical training starts from one to five. The routine is a bit varied and it's not all hard work and bruises, there's also balance and flexibility. He's not trying to break my body, he's trying to make it _better_, after all, so he's… gentle. Sorry. Weird word. Don't know why that plopped into my mind. So yes, I get bruises, but I'm not _abused_, it just felt like that for the first few days because, I'm ashamed to admit, I'm not used to training this hard. I've gone a bit soft since leaving Batman's shadow. He was a hard ass when it came to training too.

At five I take a shower –very much needed by now− every two days I also do my own laundry, including sheets once a week, make sure my armor is polished. I have to do his armor and boots too, but thankfully not his clothes. I don't think I could have handled Slade's skid marks.

I know the man used to be in the military, and you can _tell_, can't you? It would be funny if it wasn't so much work. At six dinner is ready, at seven I'm allowed to watch any news I want until eight and then it's back to my room where I'm locked up. I'm allowed to stay up as long as I want to, but I learned quickly that you can't keep a schedule like this without proper sleep, and I actually sleep like a dead man. First I thought he might be drugging me, because I'm allowed to bring a snack to the bedroom with me, but I can pick it out myself and he eats from the fridge too, so I don't thinks so. Besides, I sleep even if I don't eat; I just wake up hungrier.

Like I said I have to keep my clothes clean, and my room too, of course. The food, however, was a mystery in the beginning, but it turned out he has meals delivered. Not from restaurants, you can tell they are home cooked, but from somewhere. Groceries for breakfast and such are also delivered, but there is not much actual cooking involved there, apart from eggs. Slade likes boiled eggs. At least I assume he does, as he serves them to me; we never eat together. In fact, I never see him without his mask or armor, which annoys me to no end for some reason. I feel like no matter how many clues I can gather about the man, I will never be able to answer the question 'who is Slade?' properly without seeing his face. And I even know his full name! Slade Wilson. It was written in one of the many books he has told me to read… I don't know if he meant for me to see it or if he had forgotten it was there, scribbled on the inside of the cover, proof of ownership.

Speaking about proof of ownership; I dressed in my uniform once I returned to my room. I don't have to wear it during breakfast, so I don't. I brushed my teeth, did my business and then it was time for studies. Routine. He's ensnared me in it, and he knows I like it. Well, not being _here_ and doing _these things_, of course, but _having_ a routine. It's important to me, and even though I have to be ready to dash out into the city and fight crime –or used to have to, anyway− I still had all kinds of routines and… rituals, even, which helped me relax. I'll stop now, before you start to think I'm crazy.

Why, if I'm left to wander around the compound so freely, haven't I escaped, you might ask? Besides the fact that my friends would be dead before I reached the tower to warn them? Because it's impossible. I've tried, before Slade told me what the consequences would be, anyway. I am to be _where_ he tells me to be _when_ he tells me to be there, or my team suffers. It has already happened twice, and after last night...? Not again.

The study had two desks. His is a big, sprawling metal one, mine is a small MDF one in the corner of the room. Very subtle.

He was on his computer when I entered the room, a few minutes early.

"Finish what you started yesterday, and let me know when you're ready to be quizzed," he said. In German.

I just nodded and sat down, trying to focus on my work while a million thoughts, mostly wants and regrets, flowed through my mind. I have a hope that my friends will figure out why I fought them last night and maybe burst through the door at any moment… although a slightly sneakier plan might be better. I know them well enough to realize that, if the cavalry arrives, it will do so with a bang, though. I grinned to myself, but then focused on the list of words again.

I took a bit of German in school, though it's not a language I've used much. I'm glad I got some of the basics down, though, because Slade sure piles it up, and it's just not tourist phrases either, oh no. Right now I'm trying to commit a long list of words to memory which deals with architectural terms… like different types of doors, windows, balconies, towers and turrets and roofs and crap. I guess it might be important if someone tells you to enter through the French window and you go in by the front door instead or something.

I've gotten the same kind of work about human anatomy, weapons and city related things like the difference between streets and alleys. Luckily my French, Spanish, and Russian is better, which is probably why we're focusing on German. I had to sit a row of tests on my second day here to find out where I was 'lacking'. You can't say that he hasn't planned this out, anyway. Put Slade in charge of the U.S. school system and grades would go up in a week… although, it might happened after he killed off half the students to scare the other half straight, I don't know.

I sighed and continued reading, noting down the words, trying to come up with little tricks to remember them. Some are easy; almost the same as English. Some are completely alien.

Alien… Starfire. Sweet, sweet, dear Starfire. I'm very fond of her. It's just so nice to be around someone who is herself so completely. Open. Easy to read. Not trying to act tough. Honest.

"Focus on your work."

Shit. My mind had wondered again.

"Sorry, Sir," I say quickly, hoping to get away with a 'sir' instead of a 'master'. It seems to work. Good.

Right. Dachziegel. Great. Dachziegel. Fuck my life.

I finally felt ready after another half hour and he started asking me what this or that was called, until he was satisfied that I had memorized the words. I couldn't relax until he nodded, indicating that I had 'passed', but I don't know why. It wasn't like he would beat me if I got it wrong. What he would do was giving me less free time, more chores and tougher exercises at the gym… now you know what happen on the_ third_ day of my apprenticeship. That said, he _had_ used physical punishment –apart from the times that I attacked him and he introduced me to the floor several times, but that_ might_ not count− and it had been embarrassing, so I tried to avoid it. It had happened during sparring, the first day. I was not quite in the mood to go along with anything he wanted me to do, and he told me to 'quit sulking'. When I still didn't do my best, he lifted me by my wrist and slapped my ass. Just one, hard slap, then he let me go and told me not to be childish before giving his next order. It's not like I'm used to being punished like that, and that one shocked me. It wasn't the pain –it just stung− but the _place_; that he had hit my _butt_ with his _hand_! I can't explain it, but it made me feel… I don't even know! But I _did _shape up after that one, I did_ not_ want it to happen again.

"You seem rather distracted today."

I silently cursed, while I struggled to find the right words in German. At last I had understood what he said.

"I am sorry. I have… many things to think of."

"About."

"Yes, about."

"And you don't. All you have to worry about is doing exactly what I tell you."

I fought an urge to sneer or roll my eyes and instead just nodded.

"Have you decided if we should… travel?" I asked, searching for that particular word.

"Yes, but not where. I've sent out word that I'm available for a mission."

"M-mission?"

"Yes, what did you think we would be doing? A vacation?"

"No, but… your mission… what kind?" I hated speaking a language I'm not fluent in! I sound like an idiot!

"I don't know, I haven't gotten it yet," he said, and I sensed he thought that my question is stupid.

"I mean… will you be stealing something or…?"

"Firstly, it's 'we', boy, and secondly, like I said, I don't know."

I wanted to tell him that though stealing was something I could accept –under these circumstances, mind you!– there are other things I _won't_ do… but I chose not to press the issue, not right now. I think he knows exactly what I want to say anyway.

"Do you have any more missions planned for me here?" I asked instead, trying to sound cooperative, even though all I want to do is get out and stretch my legs.

"After that little stunt yesterday? No. You're grounded."

"Grounded?" I repeat the word in English, just to make sure I've understood him.

"Correct."

"Fine." I might have said that with a slight pout on my face, I'm not proud to admit.

He made a little noise, a kind of soft snort, which I had learnt meant amusement, but I couldn't blame him. I am sixteen , after all, and maybe I am a little childish for my age. Then again I'm more responsible than many adults, with a tougher schedule, a more dangerous job and many lives depending on me, so…

"Let's move on to military-related vocabulary." Slade said next. "This list contains three hundred words, learn them by tomorrow morning."

He held the papers out to me so I had to get up and walk over to him to fetch it. I couldn't help but glance at his laptop, wishing I could have just a few minutes with it. Thirty seconds. Fifteen! I'd find a way to send the Titans a message, but no. Slade knew it too, so I wasn't allowed to use any tech unsupervised, and everything was password protected anyway.

"Aren't we having any other lessons today?" I asked, hoping for something more interesting than German.

"Not today."

I sighed as I sat down with the new list, hoping time would go quickly and it would be lunch soon.

As I ate, alone as usual, I turned my situation over in my head. It was a very weird one… I was a prisoner here, but I wasn't mistreated or even scared. Sure, I was worried about the outcome, and there were flashes of terror when things seemed to take a bad turn for my friends, like yesterday, but I wasn't scared for myself. Or sad. Angry? Yes. Frustrated? You bet. I was far from crying myself to sleep at night, though. If it hadn't been for my friends, and the fact that I wasn't allowed to leave, it wouldn't be so bad.

"If this had been a summer camp, I might have joined."

"Pardon?" I don't blame the man for not having a clue what I was babbling about, but after finishing lunch I had reported to the gym, and the things I've been thinking about was still on my mind.

"Yeah, how about we forget the whole apprentice and criminal thing and you can become my personal trainer?"

"Did your meal include alcohol?"

"I'd pay you?"

"Go warm up." As I passed him, he cuffed my head lightly. "And show some respect."

"Yes Master," I sighed. "It was just worth a shot."

"I disagree."

"Why?" I face him again. "With all due respect, that is… Even if I agreed to this-"

"I thought you did," the bastard says silkily and suddenly holds the controller in his hand again, thumb caressing the button almost lewdly.

"I did! I did!" I hurriedly assure him. "Well, even though I _have_, then… do you really think I'll just forget who I am? And this isn't about my friends, it's about who_ I_ am. I've always fought for justice! When I commit a crime for you, even if I learn to do it _well_… I will always think that it's _wrong_… I'll despise myself even more than I hate you!"

"You use the word 'always' very lightly, don't you? You were shaped by the death of your parents, or rather, by Batman and how he shaped you afterwards. That's about half our life. Not 'always'."

"My parent raised me to know right from wrong, though!" I snapped back. "And Batman didn't 'shape' me!"

"Oh, he didn't?" Slade took just one step and he was right in front of me, tilting my chin back with a firm hand. "How did you feel when they died, boy? Sad?"

"Devastated," I admit freely, feeling my eyes beginning to burn a little. I'm not used to talking about them, and much less my feelings.

"Lost? Shocked?"

"Yes!"

"Angry?"

"Ye-" I practically hear the trap slam shut, but in for a penny… "Yes! Of course I was angry! At him, at myself…"

"So tell me, my boy… if it hadn't been for the bat… if you had faced the man who killed your parents eight years ago… if you had had a gun… Would you have been angry _enough_?"

I pulled free of his hold and head towards the sand sack hanging from the ceiling. "I'm going to warm up," I said and then slam my fist into the worn leather as hard as I can.

"Look at that," the man chuckled. "Seems like you're angry enough even _now_."

"Can we spar today, Master? Please? Because yeah, I'm angry _enough_," I said the last part between clenched teeth, but he stills hears me.

Forty minutes later I picked myself up from the floor for the last time and raised my hands in a defeated gesture. I've had enough.

"Hit the weights."

There was no use complaining that I was too bruised and battered, because he knew exactly what my injuries were and that they were only skin deep. The remaining hours would hurt because of my challenge, and, once more, I felt silly. I decided, then and there, that that was the feeling I hated the most… or, at least, that _he _made me feel like that.

The rest of the session went perfectly. I beat some personal bests, even. Because that's what I do; he humiliates me, and that makes me try harder… and I can't help it! I just have to prove myself, prove that I'm better than he – and everyone else− thinks… I'm really my own worst enemy here.

"Very good, Robin."

The words made me bristle and preen at the same time. My muscles were screaming in pain, and I tried to ignore him, walking stiffly towards the door and the hot shower my body sorely needed.

"Wash up quickly and then come back here and get on the table," I'm told.

"I don't need−"

"Yes you do. Don't argue."

"Yes, Master." I'm too tired to argue anyway. Besides, I know he's right: I _do_ need a massage badly.

I'm back ten minutes later, almost completely dry with a towel around my hips. There's an actual massage table standing to the side in the gym, with a hole for my face and everything. I got on it and forced my body to relax. The first time Slade did this I freaked out. I don't know what I imagined would happen, but I didn't trust him and− A realization hits me then and there. I trust him. Well… you know; to do what he _says_ he's going to do and not randomly cut one of my kidneys out or something… and it's only been a week! He has made me trust him in a week! The fucker!

I jumped when I suddenly felt his hands on me.

"A bit high strung, are we?" he snorted.

"Your gloves are cold," I lied.

"Poor you. I'm going to carefully help you stretch and relax your muscles, no deep tissue massage this time."

"Good. I might cry from the pain." I muttered, and let him get to work. His hands slowly traveled from my neck out to the fingertips of each hand, then down my back. He removed the towel –the part which made me kick him in the neck the first time− and calmly continues down my glutes and thighs.

"You still tense up in this area," he told me, one of his gloved hands resting on my behind like it belonged there.

"There's a evil bast- master mind touching my ass, I think I'm _entitled_ to being a little tense," I snorted.

"Well, thank you for the 'master mind' comment, but I'm hardly evil."

I lift myself up on my elbows and turn my head to stare at the man over my shoulder. "What? You're 'not evil'? Am I missing something?"

"Apparently. Lie back down, I'm not finished."

"I just…" I'm rather speechless, but I obeyed as I'm trying to find the right words. "I mean, I know that some people has a warped self image, but this is… wow."

"Define 'evil'," he ordered.

"Slade."

"Very funny. Now do it properly."

"Someone who does evil deeds."

"Like what?"

"Killing comes to mind."

"Ah, so soldiers are evil?"

"Of course not! It's about the _reasons_ too." Why is he being difficult? He's _clearly _evil! Why would he even− "Mmmm…" I can't help but hum in appreciation as he works on my thighs. I did a _lot_ of squats today, and his hands feel amazing.

"So it's all about the motive? So if Batman would start killing criminals, truly making the streets of Gotham safer-"

"It would be wrong, because it's against the law!"

"Yes, but would you consider him 'evil'?"

"If he would start killing criminals…" I said, trying to imagine the situation. Frighteningly it's not that difficult. "Then it would be because of a mental breakdown of some kind. I'd have him committed. Get him help."

"You didn't answer my question."

"No, I wouldn't call him evil, but I _know_ him. It's different."

"No, it's not. What you are saying is that someone killing criminals aren't as bad as someone killing 'innocent' people."

I almost said 'duh!' but stopped myself. "It's a crime either way."

"Yes, but apparently merely committing a crime doesn't make you evil."

"Can we stop? I've had this discussion before," I beg. My head is beginning to hurt.

"With Batman, I presume?"

"Yes."

"And how did he defend himself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Our dear bat has broken the law quite often to reach his goal. He has to justify that to himself somehow."

"The end justifies the means?"

"And when it ends badly? What is his defense then?"

"It doesn't matter, he's not evil!"

"If you say so. You know I've been a soldier, I killed people on the government's orders then, getting paid to do so as well… but I wasn't evil then according to your logic?"

"Well… did you enjoy it?"

"Never."

"Really?"

"Really. I've killed some people in my line of work which I truly _did_ enjoy taking out, though," he told me, but it doesn't seem like he's about to continue.

"Who?"

"A world war two veteran, a Nazi. The asshole had hidden away in South America with the fortune he had collected while in power. He was the manager of a concentration camp, and _he_ enjoyed it. So much so that he bought people to continue his old life style at his ranch. A few every month it seemed like. He tortured and killed them. Mostly children and teens. Do you blame me from enjoying blasting his head off?"

"No," I had to admit. "But if he had been brought to justice-"

"Nothing would have happened. You see, the German government _knew _who this man was, but there was no proof. He had went through plastic surgery, erased every trace of his old life… they couldn't bring him to justice. So they sent me."

"The German government did?"

"Indeed. And I barely charged them for it. Turn over."

"Um... towel?"

He snorted but handed it to me, as it had fallen on the floor. I covered my front as I rolled over, bunching the cloth up a little to hide the fact that the massage had had a little bit of an effect on me. I'm not sure it fooled anyone, but, embarrassing as it was, it didn't mean anything. He had been a teen once, he should know. He probably did too, because he never commented, even when he woke me up the other day and I rolled over with a full morning erection. He just told me to go pee before reporting to the kitchen.

"So, you're trying to say that you're not evil because you kill people who deserve it?" I ask, trying to ignore the fact that he has bent my left leg up against my chest and the towel didn't do much to hide anything. He wasn't looking at my crotch, though, so…

"I don't care much about who pays me, but I do my fair amount of government work… but I'm not trying to sugarcoat my job; I've also taken out witnesses before trails, businessmen who won't sell out… they aren't all criminals, but chances are that if you got a price on your head, especially a high enough one to interest_ me_, you most likely left a trail of bodies or ruined lives behind you as well. I choose my missions. I don't kill children, and rarely women-"

"What about the Titans?"

"_Ordinary_ children, then. Superheroes are different."

"That's what_ you_ have to tell yourself?"

He stops what he's doing and looks at me for a moment. I think I'm in trouble until he tilts his head. "Touché. I wouldn't do it if they were younger, though. The green one is a borderline case… but if you push me enough, Robin, I _will_. As you said, 'the end justifies the means', and you're more important to me than they are."

"Geeze, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Sarcasm, look it up. Ow!" He stretched my leg a bit too much there. On purpose, of course. Fucktard.

"Respect. Look it up."

"You're so funny."

"Maybe you should look that word up too."

I can feel the corners of my mouth twitching, even though I don't want to. Dammit!

"So you are claiming, with a straight face, that you're not evil?" I ask.

"I have the same capacity to do evil as everyone else. Well... maybe a _bit _more. And yes, my morals are my own. I _do_ have them, though."

"So a truly evil person is a person with no morals?"

"Perhaps. Or at least very few."

"I think he or she also has to enjoy it."

"Anyone comes to mind?" he asks, sounding a bit curious.

"The Joker."

"I thought insanity was an excuse?"

"I think the Joker is only as insane as he wants to be."

"Good observation. So am I evil, then? Compared to the Joker?"

"Compared to the Joker _no one's _evil."

"That might be true."

"It doesn't mean that you're not a bastard, though. Master," I add just in case.

"Oh no, I'm _definitely _a bastard," the man claims and twists my leg just _so_.

"AAARGH!" I kick him away and clutches at my poor limb, but the pain is already gone. He knows what he's doing.

"Go take a proper shower now, apprentice," he says, dismissing me. I'm happy to leave and jumps off the table. I'm half way across the room before I realize that I don't have my towel. I stop dead, turn half around, but he's watching, so I turn back and continue on, back stiff. I think I hear him chuckling.

After dinner I grabbed my list of words and sit down in the monitor room –or the 'throne room'– half watching the news, half studying. I cross off the words I already know and focus on the other ones. I copy them to another piece of paper; the German words in one column and their English counterparts in another, fold the paper so I only see one side, and try to get the German one's right. It's a technique that works for me, because it's a bit like a quiz, a game. A very, very boring game, but still.

I raise my head to listen more closely as the news turns to the situation in Syria. Slade is in the room too, in his chair, and I see that he is paying attention as well. Maybe he's hoping for a job. I really, really hope I won't be forced to go into a warzone. I'm not sure I could handle not being allowed to _help_. On the plus side, maybe Slade steps on a mine.

The news turns to the economy, something I know is important, but it's not like it will have any impact on me right now. It's not like he can't afford to keep me… although maybe people can't afford to hire him. I wonder if he'll send me out on the streets with a mug and a sign. 'Will kill for cash.'

I snorted at my own mind and went back to the list of words. If I can get this done before lock up I can read for an hour or two before going to sleep, and the book I'm into right now is rather fitting; "Crime and Punishment" by Fyodor Dostoyevsky… the discussion of guilt and the 'higher purpose', for example… Not that it's a great read, really. It feels a bit too stuffy to me, or maybe a bit too foreign. I can't really get into the main character's head to truly understand him, it's like he's an alien –sorry Starfire−. But all in all, it's interesting, so…

I put some effort into it and feel fairly confident about the work when eight o'clock comes around.

"Goodnight, Robin." It means 'go to your room' but it's a nicer way to say it I suppose.

I had something on my mind, though, something I've been wondering about Slade for a long time. As this has been a "good" day, so to speak, maybe I dare to…?

"Master, may I ask you something personal?"

"Trying to stay up past your bedtime?"

"No, sorry," I said, getting up to head to the door.

"What was the question?"

I grin a little. Seems I got him curious. I school my features back into a blank mask before I turn around, though.

He has stood up as well and is walking up to me. I swallow. Suddenly I'm not so sure I want to know the answer.

"Well… I… you've told me some things about your past, but I wondered… um… are you human? I mean… fully?"

"Why would you doubt that?"

"You're too fast, too strong… something isn't right, but it's not an _obvious_ power, like the Flash's or Superman's… And the black side of your mask, your full body armor… have you been… enhanced?"

"Like your friend Cyborg, you mean? Interesting hypothesis."

"But not true, then? You use the bots, sometimes, and the nano probes… it fits."

Instead of answering the man does something he hasn't done before; he removes one of his gauntlets. I stare at the revealed skin. Caucasian. Nails clean and neatly trimmed. The hair on the top of the hand is… fair? Not black, at least but it's hard to see in the flickering lights from the screens. The palm has calluses, some not unlike my own, from fighting with my bo-staff. I'm almost transfixed.

"See? Very real." He makes that half-chuckle noise as his hand comes up to cup my chin, like to prove that the skin is indeed real. It feels like it. Warm, and a little rough. Slightly moist from being encased in those heavy looking gloves. I feel the hand lift my chin and close my mouth with a click. I had been gaping. Terrific. _That's _not embarrassing!

"I… I… okay, so not a machine, but you're still not fully human, are you?"

"I'll tell you in due time," he says, and removes his hand. He sounds amused as he adds, "now go to bed, little bird."

"Stop trying to sound like a father," I huffed, blushing, and turned around.

"You know what?" I heard him say as I was leaving. "I think I've changed my mind about that…"

I didn't stop to ask what he meant. It felt… strange. Like I wouldn't like the answer, but I wasn't sure. I hope he meant that he just wanted to be my Master… that's what it _had_ to mean, right?

* * *

"Get up, we're leaving."

"What… huh? Whe-?" I have a very good internal clock, so I knew it couldn't be six already. I was about to glance at the alarm clock when my eyes land on the man in the doorway.

Who isn't Slade.

"I…I… who… _what_…?" I stutter.

"Get dressed."

It_ is_ Slade! Slade without his mask! He turns around and leaves, confident that I will follow orders, and I do. It's four in the morning, I notice, as I practically jump into my uniform to hurry after him.

He's caucasian, as his hands had already told me. His hair is white, and he wears it short, brushed back at the sides. It looks like it's is usually short enough to be a crew cut on top, but he has left it to grow out a little bit, so while most of it stays in place, a few strands falls down and curls a bit over his forehead. The strands aren't nearly long enough to reach his thick, angled eyebrows, though. Those are white as well, and below them there are two cold blue eyes. This is something I don't understand, though. Why cover up one of his eyes? It seems very irrational and would impair is depth perception and-

"Would you stop staring at me and eat your breakfast?"

"I… I…"

"Yes, you've said that. Eat. It might be a while before we get a chance to again."

"You have two eyes?" I know the sentence is random, it might even sound a bit crazy, but my brain is just trying to come to grips with one thing at a time here.

"Fake," he says and taps the right one with his fork.

"Oh. Okay." I can finally function enough to shove some boiled egg in my mouth.

"I normally wear an eye patch, but people tend to remember seeing someone with those, and I'd like to leave the city quietly. I hope I've made myself clear?"

"Yes. Why? I mean, why don't you just wear a fake eye all the time?"

He gives me a look, like he can't decide whether to tell me or not. "It chafes."

I snort into my coffee, burning myself in the process. "Poor you."

"Your attitude reminds me that I have to give you an injection before we leave."

"What? Why? Against what? I'm really sorry about your eye!"

"Nice try. We're not leaving without it, though."

"Why? Are we going somewhere dangerous?"

"Very." He smirks now. Actually _smirks_. Like a s_mile_. _SLADE_! I didn't think any expression like that could survive on his face. Okay, so maybe he's been smirking this whole time, but I haven't been able to see it, and I damn well didn't imagine it.

"Where?"

"Sweden."

I blink. "You're joking."

"Yes. Well, about the dangerous part. We're still going and you're still getting an injection." he walked over to the counter and there's a small medical kit there. He's holding a needle when he turns around.

"But… what _is_ it?"

"Your leash." He doesn't explain more than that before wiping a spot on the back of my neck with disinfectant and jabs it in.

"OW! You're a horrible nurse!" I groaned. It pinched, but when he pushed the liquid into my body it started to burn too. Badly. My hands gripped the edge of the table, and I grind my teeth together as I'm determined not to cry out in any_ real_ pain. "Just tell me what it is!"

"It's probes, very similar to the ones your friends are carrying around."

"So you can fry me if I misbehave? Nice to know."

"It's more than that. I can also track you, knock you unconscious, or just cause you pain. Even disable parts of your body."

"Gee, thanks. Anything more I should know?"

"I can do it even if you're on the other side of the planet, and the tech will be almost impossible to remove. Even_ I_ would struggle to do it."

"You sound so damn proud of yourself."

"I am. This is the second generation to the crude ones the Titans were infected with. Yours are far more advanced," he says and rounds the table again, sitting down and picking up his cup of coffee like he just don't jam a needle in my neck and told me I'm his new remote controlled toy.

"And when did you have time to do that?"

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a rather haughty look. "I've _had_ a week."

"They are just going to randomly explode in my brain, aren't they?" I growled.

"Yes." He took a sip of coffee. "But only if I tell them to."

* * *

Sitting in a car next to Slade was another surreal thing I had never expected would happen. He was driving and the car was a rented Hyundai which smelled a bit much of cleaning liquids, making me suspect that the last people who drove it had had carsick children in the back.

"We're going to the airport?" I was in civilian clothes – faded blue jeans, a long sleeved button down gray shirt and a light jacket of some sporty water-and-wind-resistant type of fabric. I had never seen the clothes before in my life, and they all fit perfectly. Including the underwear and shoes. I would be impressed if it wasn't so freaky. Slade had on a dark gray, almost black suit, a simple cut, no tie, white shirt. Dress shoes. Looked like he was going to the office.

"Yes. I had a feeling _swimming _to Europe would only make you whiny."

"You should do stand up."

He ignored me and began a lecture instead. "I don't want any trouble during our trip, Robin. I know you'll be tempted, but I warn you; any attempt to draw attention to yourself, to contact the Titans or warn anyone, will end… very badly."

"I'm just going to sit back and let airport security take care of you. I saw the weapons and the uniforms in one of the suitcases, do you really think you'll get away with that?"

"Oh yes."

"What? Some kind of lining of the suitcase? Won't it just seem empty then? What if you're picked for a random search?"

"I have people on the inside."

"Oh. That simple, huh?"

"Simple? To get the right people to work at the right gates at all the airports we're going to start and land at?"

"What do you want? A round of applause?"

"Right now I'd like to test out those nano probes."

"Sorry, Master." It was clear I went a bit too far there, but I just couldn't help myself.

"You'll learn. Now, the top envelope on the dashboard is for you. Your ID, passport and such. Make sure you remember your name and birth date."

When I open the envelope, however, the first thing I see is a cell phone. I can't help but to stare at Slade like he has lost his mind. He can't trust me with a phone!

"You can only call one number with that. Mine. It also works as a communicator with a range of about five kilometers."

"Oh. Does it at least have some games?"

"No."

I shrugged, pocketed the phone and reached for the passport instead. It said Robin Wilson.

"You gave me_ your_ name?" That statement actually gets an reaction, as Slade looks away from the road for a moment.

"How do you know my last name?"

Ah, so the scribble in the book _wasn't_ intended, then. He had merely forgotten that he wrote his name in it – probably when he was young as it was an old and worn edition. I'm not going to tell him that he messed up, though, because he might do it again.

"Oh, you know…" I say flippantly. "I've _had_ a week."

* * *

The ordinary city airport and ordinary commercial flight, among ordinary people… it's surreal. It's surreal that this man is blackmailing me to follow him out of the country to do who knows what once we get there. Remember when I said I wasn't scared? I was now. My stomach had clenched painfully at the thought. I was helpless before, but now? Soon I'll be half way across the planet and coursing through me were those probes, and here, back home… he has already told me –offhandedly like it didn't really matter− that he can kill the Titans from anywhere on the planet. So I'm stuck. I really see no way out of this, he even hinted that if I would get intentionally hurt in some way, my friends would suffer. I think he meant if I killed myself. Not that I'm anywhere near even _considering _that! Suicide, I feel, is never, ever the answer, but what if he tries to force me to kill someone? I have no idea what to do! Can I really just put all my morals aside to save my friends? Is there any math I can use to solve this? How many human lives equals the lives of four heroes? How much do I have to hate myself before nothing matters anymore?

"That's us."

"Huh?"

"Are you always this dreadful at paying attention in a crowd? Our plane is boarding."

"Oh. Yeah." I stood up and followed him, wondering if I'll ever see Jump City again, and what to expect on the other side of the ocean.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: on to chapter 2… well… if you liked chapter one. If not, why the hell are you still reading?


	2. Part 2

A/N: Chapter 2 out of 3 (so far).

* * *

**The Good Boy, part 2**

It might seem that we talk a lot, all the time, Slade and I. That's hardly the truth, it's just that there's not much to tell about the silence. He's very good at silence, and he seems to like it. He focuses on whatever and expects me to do the same, and the truth is that I used to _love_ it when it was quiet. It was so rare in the Tower... I'm starting to remember my days with Batman, however, and how I'd do something silly like paint smiley-faces on the martial art training dummies, just to get an_ reaction_. Even talking to Alfred was slow going and sometimes it made me feel like I was keeping him from doing his job, though I know he'd deny that… Bruce and Slade had a few things in common, although I think Bruce was actually _less_ chatty at times, incredibly enough.

Our first stop was Gotham. It was like he _wanted_ to taunt me, but I knew that that and New York were the more common places to start from if you wanted to skip over the pond. Still, I think he picked Gotham out of spite, the fucker.

Close to eight hours later, because we had to wait for our flight in Gotham, we boarded the international flight and I saw my home country fall away beneath me. We were heading for London, and from there –for some reason− we were flying to Oslo. That is the capital of Norway, not Sweden, and didn't make much sense to me, and Slade still wouldn't explain what the mission was, which worried me. Granted, we had been surrounded by people since we left the car at the airport, but couldn't he drop me a hint?

"You don't speak any Scandinavian languages?" he asked suddenly.

"Um, no."

"You should learn, then. Swedish, Norwegian or Danish, the three countries understand each other, at least to some extent."

"I'll get right on that, then," I muttered, because really? Yeah, I'll just pick up a foreign language on the flight over, shall I? I have been told not to call him 'master' when other people could hear, so I had that going for me, at least.

"I'll teach you a few phrases when we get there."

"I'm very grateful."

"You should be."

There really wasn't much we could chat about without making the passengers around us wonder what was going on, so the next seven hours were pretty quiet too. Well, I fell asleep after a while, luckily, leaning against the wall.

I woke up leaning against Slade's shoulder.

Funny? No. I was surprised that he had let me sleep like that, though… I would have expected to be pushed away so hard my head would have bounced against the window, but he just looked amused at my horrified expression.

Another change of planes, to Oslo, and from there he rented another car. By then I was, despite my nap, just too tired to even care anymore, and that, of course, was when he started talking.

"Our mission is in Gothenburg. We're working for the FSB. It seems Säpo has managed to catch a person in their service, and they are very… worried about him."

"So the Russian and Swedish secret service? And we're getting in the middle? Great. So this spy… are they going to torture him?"

"The Swedes? They might offer him weak coffee… but they will probably apologize for it."

"Sounds like the guy's in real danger, then."

"He is, but hardly from the Swedes. He'll most likely be deported, though, and he's not, technically, Russian. He's Chinese, and if_ they_ get him back he'll be dead within a week. After questioning."

"Oh. Okay, so... we're going to get him out?"

"Yes."

"Okay," I said and I think my relief was very obvious. "That doesn't sound so bad!"

"Did you think I was going to send you in to slaughter a kindergarten class?"

"No, but… you kill people, so…"

"I understand your worry. Let me make you a deal, then… I won't ask you to pull the trigger until you're eighteen."

"Really?" I know it sounds weird, but I felt like I had just been given an amazing present.

"Don't get too excited. It doesn't mean you won't be there to assist in whichever way I need you too, and if you are attacked, I don't want to see those people get up again, at least not for several hours, preferably never. Is that clear?"

"I… yes." It was better that I could hope for, I knew that.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good boy."

"One thing, though, Sir…" I ask carefully. "Why did we land in Norway?"

"Because I couldn't secure a contact in Gothenburg, only in Oslo or Stockholm, and Oslo is closer. Not by that much, granted, but enough."

"But we'll have to cross the border, and- why is that so funny?"

"The border between Norway and Sweden is… well, there _are_ custom stations. On_ some_ roads. Sometimes they are even occupied. I'm going to take a route which isn't checked, though, just in case."

"Oh." A border without security seemed strange to me, but I guess Slade knew what he was talking about.

It was nine PM, my time, which meant it was six in the morning the next day here, I figured out quickly. I set my phone to the local time, and stared out of the front window of the car. I was drained.

"It will be three or four hours to Gothenburg, we'll stop somewhere outside and get some rest," Slade tells me. "We'll free the man tomorrow night."

"Sounds good, I really need this jetlag to go away first or I'll might just ask for some of that weak coffee." I say. "Speaking of coffee, I need it. And pain killers. My head is about to explode. And food. Proper food. The airplane stuff tastes of paper."

"Ah, the joys of traveling with a companion," Slade has the audacity to mutter as he turns into a gas station.

"You're not the Doctor."

"Pardon?"

"Forget it." I don't know why I thought Slade would get a Doctor Who reference, I really don't. I wouldn't have known it myself unless Raven had started watching it… Raven… I sighed, my breath fogging up the side window as I had leaned towards it. I miss them all so much it hurts! And if they think I betrayed them… or that I'm dead…

"Didn't you want coffee?"

I hadn't noticed that the car had stopped. I nodded and unbuckled my seatbelt. I needed _something_ to make me feel better, that's for sure.

Fifteen minutes later I had coffee, a large sub-type sandwich which actually seemed rather fresh for being sold at a gas station, some chewing gum, a packet of pain killers, a bottle of water and a large chocolate bar. I with that had been a list describing items I would be using in my cunning plan to escape this hell, but sadly I didn't even have an inkling of an idea. The only plan included eating or drinking most of it. It wouldn't make me any happier, but at least I wouldn't be hungry. Bright sides and silver linings.

* * *

Hours later Slade finally slowed down somewhere outside Gothenburg. It was early spring, but apparently not here. What wasn't grey or brown was covered by snow still. It looked like it was about to melt away, but the heavy clouds might have something to say about that. It was about ten in the morning, but it was still rather dark. The sun was up there somewhere, pale and distant, but I wasn't even able to tell in what direction it was. I missed California.

"This looks promising. Huge complex, international chain. They won't take much notice of two more guests."

I knew Slade told me this to tutor me, to make me think like him, so I nodded to let him know that I had understood.

He parked, we got out. I shivered in my thin jacket, but it was more from tiredness than from cold. I was told to grab the rest of our bags, two trunks with clothes for the both of us, while Slade took the suitcase with the weapons and uniforms. Didn't he trust me or did he think it was too heavy for me? I didn't know or care.

There were a lot of people milling about, and a bus with a large logo on it –a travel company I guessed− were just letting their load off too. Slade had to stand in line a bit at the counter and when it was his turn the woman there first looked a bit grim and shook her head. He gestured to me, they talked a bit more –in Swedish, because I caught a few words but didn't understand them− and then Slade shrugged and nodded, saying something that made the woman smile in a rather pretty way. I couldn't help but wonder what it was…

"They are pretty full, but I got us a room," he let me know as he came over.

"Good."

"It only has one bed."

"Oh hell no!"

"It's a king size, we won't have to spoon," he snorted, and gestured for me to follow him.

"I don't really want to get any closer to you," I muttered.

"Well… you are."

Once in the room I saw that, yes, the bed was a fairly big one but I still checked if it was made up of two single ones pushed together. It wasn't. Fuck.

"There is something I need to test. I guess I should apologize in advance," I heard Slade say behind me.

"Huh, what-?" I asked turning around. He was holding something in his hand. His phone? His thumb was hovering over the buttons, and he had a peculiar look on his face, studying me. It took a second but then I understood what he was about to 'test'. "Wait! No! Don't-" There was a flash of pain and the world went black.

* * *

I woke up with a worse headache than what I had from the start, and it had been bad to begin with. I felt nauseous and didn't want to open my eyes. My instincts told me to get on my feet as soon as possible, though, so I did _try._ The try mainly resulted in my arm flailing a bit.

"Awake?" Slade asked, his voice much too loud.

"Don't_ wanna_ be," I groaned weakly.

"Then go back to sleep. I'm going out for about an hour, maybe two. You're not allowed to leave the room."

"Ngh…" I just curled up a bit. I was on the bed. He must have put me there. My shoes were off. Nothing else, thankfully. Having had him carry me across the room left a bad enough taste in my mouth as it was. I rather hoped he had just dragged me here and tossed me on the bed, and not… you know… did the bridal style kinda thing. Damn, that gave me some weird images!

I couldn't deal with any of that now, though. I needed sleep.

I woke up when the door opened, and looked up blearily.

"How are you feeling?" Slade asked. He didn't seem to be carrying anything, so I got no clue about what he might have been doing.

"Headache," I mumbled, because it was still almost as bad.

"I see. I wonder if it's because of the jetlag too. The unconscious function wasn't supposed to be crippling."

"So glad to hear that…" I snorted quietly. A minute later I made a surprised noise as he sat down next to me and lifted me up a bit, supporting my upper body. "What are you…?"

"Painkillers," he explained and popped two white, oval pills in my mouth before holding up a glass of water to my lips for me to drink. I did, because I don't think I could have sat up by myself.

Slade then let me lie down again, and did a series of tests, checking my pupils, making sure I had the same mobility on both sides of my face and body, that I could remember things and answer questions. I knew that he was checking to see if his damn little probes had caused me any permanent damage and that I should be worried, but I just wanted to be left alone.

"Master…?" I sighed.

"Yes?"

"Fuck the hell off."

"You're sure a sweet young man. Well, I can't see any sign of anything serious, so I'm going to leave you to rest for a few more hours, then we need to start preparing."

"Can't wait."

"I'm sure the spy can't either."

That made me feel slightly guilty. We were here to rescue someone, after all, I should be thinking of _him_, not myself. Sure, if he was a spy he might not be the nicest guy in the world, but a life was a life, and I looked forward to helping him out.

Having something to focus on led to that I didn't fall back to sleep immediately. Instead I watched Slade set his computer up, get a map out of his pocket and prepare the briefing. He then began to unbutton his shirt.

I closed my eyes almost all the way, feeling like a complete perv, as he shrugged it off and hung it over the back of a chair. He had a wife beater on underneath, like men used to have back in the day, and he pulled that over his head as well, leaving his torso bare, muscles playing under taut almost unblemished skin. Weird. I had more scars than he did! People _always_ had scars in our lines of works, no one was_ that_ good.

He looked human, though. No sign of metal or… I don't know… scales? Tentacles? Tail? He had his back to me and was removing his belt, making his dress pants hang singly lower on his hips… and no, no sign of a tail. He rummaged around in his trunk, pulled out something I assumed was a toiletry bag and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later the shower started running.

I was trying to ignore the fact that my arch nemesis was naked just a couple of meters away, when my eyes fell on his computer. Maybe…? It took some doing, but I managed to raise myself up enough to see the screen. It had already locked. Damn. I sank down on the bed again and grabbed the comforter, pulling that on top of me. It felt better, somehow, and I was still a bit cold.

I had almost fallen back asleep when Slade came out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel, and it was one of those 'a bit too small' hotel versions as well. I've been mistaken, though, I saw, because he was also wearing an eye patch now, instead of his glass eye. Eww… I wonder where the eye is? He withdrew a pair of clean underwear from his bag and before I have time to even close my eyes he had dropped his towel and I get a perfect view of his ass.

"Man!" I exclaimed and throws an arm over my eyes. "Get dressed in the bathroom!"

"It's full of steam, we're both men and I thought you were asleep," he just answered calmly. "We'll see each other naked plenty of times."

"There's no way in hell you'll ever see me naked," I growled, ignoring the massages he had given me.

"Is that a bet or a challenge?"

I could hear that he was grinning, but I didn't dare look until I recognized the sound of a zipper, meaning he has pulled his pants back on. I peeked over my arm just as he pulled on a t-shirt, and I saw a glimpse of his chest and abs flexing before they were covered up once more.

"If you're not tired anymore, the shower is yours," he said as he rounded the bed and sat down on it. I can feel him lying down on his side, and can't help smelling the soap and shampoo. It's like I can feel his heat through the comforter and the space between us too, but it must be my imagination running wild.

"Still too tired…" I reply, and it's true. Even though I feel very strange doing it, I fell asleep next to my 'master'.

* * *

"How's your head?" was the next thing I heard.

"Much better," I yawned and sat up. It didn't really hurt at all, so I stood up and then almost folded double. I never had had to pee so badly in my life! I tried to hobble into the bathroom without looking like I did and had that feeling of utter relief when my bladder emptied. You know the one… when you practically can hear the chorus of angels singing?

After that, I was ready to rescue the spy, even though the actual mission wasn't until tomorrow night, and it was now almost five in the afternoon.

"I've ordered us dinner through room service," Slade told me when I joined him. "But it will be a while, so let's get started. While you napped I found our target building and took some photos. The Swedes are being very careful and is holding the man in an abandoned building owned by the government. Here." He pointed to a place on the map that looked pretty central in the city to me.

"_That's _abandoned?"

"Only temporarily for renovations. Well… that's their cover, anyway."

"Ah." I studied the photos Slade had taken. He had even gotten up on the roof of the next building over to photograph that. "This is the way in, I assume?" I said, pointing to it.

"Yes. Good." The man's praise both annoyed me and made my cheeks heat up a little. Bruce never said I did a good job unless he absolutely meant it, there was never any false praise just to make me feel better from him, and –again− Slade was the same. "He's being kept two floors down. Our customers have provided us with a very good idea about the exact room. I'm going to distract the guards, and you're going to get him out."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?"

"Don't you like being the hero? Fine, you kill or severely injure the guards while I-"

"Okay, okay, I get your point, I'll do it. And… try not to kill anyone?"

The man let out a short laugh. "You're my apprentice, not my wife. Just do as you're told. No nagging."

"Please, Master?"

"Oh, that's precious. If you're done being cute, here's the blueprints for the floor and photos of the prisoner. I don't want you rescuing the janitor."

I already feel ashamed of myself for begging like that so I quickly turn my focus to the new images on the screen. But hey… you got to try, right?

We have just started to talk about some of the details when the food arrived.

"Tack så mycket," Slade told the server and I recognized the word 'tack', knowing it meant 'thank you' in Swedish, so I guessed he's saying something like 'thank you very much'. I asked about it while we ate and he nodded. A few moments later I'm adding words and phrases to my list. 'Hej, jag heter…' means 'Hi, my name is…', 'nej' and 'ja' means 'no' and 'yes' and so on. I'm having problems with the rolling 'r', though, and some of the other sounds.

"Language lesson over, back to planning," Slade told me as the meal is done. We pushed the cart the food was delivered on into the hallway, and the man told me to put the 'do not disturb' sign on the door, which made me feel a bit self conscious for some reason.

We went through the plan for hours. I mostly listened, knowing my 'place', but asked questions when I needed things clarified. At ten in the evening, all is set and Slade switched to weapons. I don't like holding a gun, but at least I don't have to fire it. He made sure I know how to, though, and how to reload and what to do if it jams. I'm interested despite myself; I've always enjoyed learning new things, and yes, I've shot guns before, at a shooting range, but these are different. These are _his_ weapons. I know it's disgusting, but I can't help feeling a little bit of a thrill when I thought about the fact that these guns has _killed_. These aren't for sport, they are more… real.

"Don't fall in love now, I'll get you your own when you're ready," he smirked and took the one I'm holding back, putting it in its holster.

"I _could_ just shoot you, you know." I said, pointing out that maybe he shouldn't have loaded weapons around me. "Master," I added dutifully.

"That's the good thing about_ your_ morals; I know you wouldn't."

"So sure about that?" I tried meet his gaze, but it's quite hard when it bores right into your soul.

"Yes."

I looked away. He's right. I'm not desperate enough. Not yet.

Another lesson in Swedish followed, and when the morning hours approached –not that you could tell− I was told to take a shower and then sent to bed. Slade joined me a little later and we spent the day dozing, making sure we would have enough energy for the mission.

I slept quite a bit, due to the jet lag, but also spent some time thinking. I hadn't lost my control, not badly anyway, since I was first made to call him 'Master'. To be fair, I hadn't been sent out on missions and he hadn't pushed my buttons either, so maybe the sense of self control was an illusion. I couldn't decide if it was a good thing or if it just meant I was giving up. I tried very hard not to give up, I mean, there just _had_ to be a way out of this. Maybe, in time, I could even reason with Slade… or was me thinking that a sign that he had gotten into my head? Convinced me that he could be reasoned with?

"Could you stop tossing and turning or do I have to tie you down?"

That's right, he's an asshole. Nice reminder.

I muttered something under my breath and tried to find a new comfortable position. I was wearing sweats and a t-shirt now –practically pajamas− and felt a bit more… vulnerable, next to him. It was a odd feeling, because it wasn't like he could kill me any _more_ just because I was dressed like this. I don't know where it came from, really, it was just some… instinct.

* * *

It was close to midnight and we were up on the building next to our goal. We had been there for almost an hour, first changing completely into our uniforms –we had been wearing most of it under our regular clothes− and then we had staked the place out a bit, going over the plan one last time.

"Remember that there might be other interests involved," Slade had warned be before we left. "Some want this man free, some want him silent."

I had nodded, and with that in mind I was suspicious of every person I saw down on the street.

"What do you make of that woman down there?" I whispered.

"She's a streetwalker."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Stop staring at her, or I'm going to think you are too hard up to work."

"What?" I spluttered.

"It happens. Men have needs, after all. Let me know if it does and I'll take care of it."

"W-what?" I repeated. "Are you saying that… that you… that you would…?"

"Buy you a hooker, yes."

"_Oh_. Oh, good, I thought…" I cut myself off, not wanting to admit what I had thought, but it was a bit too late.

"Really, now? Isn't _that _an interesting idea…?" he smirked, but then lowered his mask. "It's time."

I made sure my own mask was in place and that everything in my belt was where it should. I nodded. I was ready.

Before we got a chance to move, though, Slade stiffens. "Phone call," he says and taps the side of his helmet. "Yes. I see. You rang just in time. No problem."

"What was that about?" I asked, curiously.

"Our employers. They just wanted to check in," he said and gestured for me to go first.

We used our grapple hooks to clear the distance to the other roof. Slade then jumped over the edge to land a floor down on a balcony. I didn't know how he could fall that far without breaking something, but I didn't particularly care either.

There was a fire exit on the roof, leading to a narrow staircase inside. I dismantled the alarm, picked the lock and entered.

The staircase smelled of dust and faint traces of urine. Human, not cat. This house might have hosted some less particular people before the Swedish state took over.

Working against the government,_ any_ government, made me feel uneasy. I was sure they were following protocol, but in doing so they_ would_ get this man killed. Slade had let me read his file and there was no question of that.

One floor down, another to go. I listened carefully now, for the distraction. Turns out I didn't have to; it's not easy to miss a grenade.

I knew it was a small charge, not enough to damage the building, just designed to make a lot of noise. I could hear people rushing in its direction and a shout about 'larma' which I've been taught to recognize. Alarm. They are calling for backup, meaning I had to be quick, but of course I already knew that.

I was on the right floor, and I had the blueprint firmly in mind. Of course, it might not be correct anymore. Someone might have thrown up a dry wall right in my path since it was made, but it seemed I was lucky. I quickly ducked behind a corner as I heard an order barked out. I wished I knew what the man had said, but after footsteps disappeared in the distance everything became quiet on this floor.

I peeked carefully around the next bend. Damn. They left guards. I pulled out a breathing mask from my belt and threw a small pellet with knock-out gas into the hallway. It worked fast and disappeared just as quickly, making the men there pass out in seconds. They won't wake up again for about ten minutes so I hurried up to the door and pushed the handle down. Locked. Again, I can pick it, but I'm in a hurry and marks doesn't matter here. It's an old fashioned door, so I quite easily pushed a blade in and forced the bolt aside. It cracked the wood slightly, but it didn't matter.

The man was alone in the room, and he looked worried. He's handcuffed to a chair, there are coffee mugs and papers on the table in front of him. Apparently we had interrupted an interrogation.

"I'm a friend," I said in Russian. "I'm here to get you out, understand? I can speak Mandarin as well, if you prefer?" I add in that language.

"I understand you. I'm not sure I _trust_ you," he growled.

"Well, if I was here to kill you, I wouldn't bother with the cuffs, would I?" I asked flippantly as I freed him. "Unless you want to stay in Sweden, I suggest you follow me."

He did. He was a bit slow and stiff about it, though, but I guessed that's not strange as he had been locked up for about two weeks already. Noises were still coming from downstairs, but we headed up again. I hooked him to my belt and he had to grab on to me as we clear the roof, using my jump cord. We don't stop there, though, a rendezvous spot has already been set up. As soon as we arrived, I sent a text to the only number on my useless new phone.

"And now?" he asked, still nervous.

"Now we just have to wait. My Ma- my boss will be here shortly," I told him, gesturing for him to relax. That's a bit difficult, perhaps, as we're on another roof, quite high up, but out of sight. "There's a change of clothes for you over there."

He was wearing scrubs of some kind, provided by the state, I assumed. He was also just in slippers. Once he saw the clothes he relaxed and started to dress quickly. I watched him, confirming what the file said. He's not a pencil pusher kind of spy; he has seen some action. He's good at armed combat and quite proficient in hand-to-hand as well. He's only about my height, and about twice my age. He's the kind of guy you wouldn't look at twice. Plain. Unobtrusive. This, of course, makes him the perfect spy. I had a feeling he was going to have to retire now, though; his cover is blown after all.

Suddenly Slade stepped out of the shadows and walked past me, towards the man.

"You!" the spy gasps. "The boy's uniform, I _thought_-"

"Yes. Nothing personal. We're in a hurry."

I saw, like in slow motion, Slade reaching for his gun, and my foot was in the air before I even thought about what I was doing.

"No!" I yelled, as I kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it flying.

"Idiot!" Slade snarled as the spy dived for it. The next moment he has caught it, spun around and fired… right into Slade's chest. I'm almost directly behind him as the bullet rips out of his back and nearly got me as well.

"Wait, stop!" I yelled as the barrel was aimed at me, next. I knew the bullet will come, he's not one to hesitate, and it does. Slade is still standing though, incredibly enough, and it smashes into him as well, making him stagger back, towards me. There's no way he'll miss a third time. I'm going to die within the next thirty seconds, or…

As Slade finally fell, I grabbed his other gun, and fired. It has nothing to do with morals. Nothing to do with the law or what is right and wrong, or even how I've been raised. This is about_ surviving_. The strongest instinct there is. I don't consciously aim, I let instinct take over there too. The bullet hits him in the head.

I threw the gun down and then… then I ran. I could hear a helicopter approaching, blue lights and sirens were filling the streets below. I don't know how I will get away, I just know that I _have_ to.

Slade is dead. The thought followed me as I fled. Dead. Dead. Dead. Is it relief I'm feeling? If it is, it's almost overpowered by the fear, though. I'm alone, in a country where I don't speak the language. And I have killed.

I know where to turn, however. Bruce. That meant getting to a phone, and while I was contemplating how to do that, someone picked up my scent.

"Stop!"

It wasn't Swedish or English; it was Russian. The employers? But what were they doing here, they sent Slade, after all? A man suddenly blocked my path, another appeared behind me, and a third and forth is closing in. All of them have guns. I suddenly wished I hadn't thrown away Slade's.

A round house kick took out two of the weapons, one even clattered over the edge of the roof. They are reluctant to shoot, maybe they think I'm on their side, and that's the only reason I'm still alive. No use kidding yourself; you can't dodge a bullet in real life.

"Where's Deathstroke!" one of the armed men yelled at me.

"Who?" I asked, distracting him while I pulled out my bo-staff and extend it behind my back. "The spy?" I've never heard the name before, but it's a bit of a pompous code name for that little guy, in my opinion.

"Don't be an idiot! Your-" I don't give him time to finish the sentence.

Soon I'm on the run again. One guy is unconscious, one has a busted knee, but two are still in good enough shape to follow in a moment, and I heard "Kill the kid!" before I jumped to the next building.

No, don't kill the kid. Be nice to the kid. Give him a phone. Maybe some hot chocolate. Or more building. I _really_ wanted more buildings, right now, because I was running out of both those and grappling hooks. Damn it! A moment later, after hiding between two air vents, I find myself wanting something else even more, though. I want my _legs_ to work...

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

A/N: go on, the last (for now) chapter should be up…


	3. Part 3

A/N: the last part (for now) :

* * *

**The Good Boy, part 3**

Suddenly, my legs had just gone numb, and I crumbled to the ground. I feel my back, afraid that I got shot and somehow didn't notice it with all the adrenaline running through my veins, but there's no wound, no blood. And then I remembered. The probes. But… does that mean…?

With shaky fingers I push the buttons to dial Slade's phone, and a second late the call is answered.

"Trying to get away, Robin?"

"Hell yes! I have two Russians after me, and they are about to kill me!"

"Really?" he sounded rather mad.

"Yes, really! I'm not trying to escape, Slade! This isn't a fucking game! Besides, you're dead!"

"Not very."

"Make my legs work!" I hissed. "I have to get away! You can still track me, and- shit." One of my hunters had caught up and I hadn't heard him in time. I grunted as the phone is kicked out of my hand, and then I'm staring straight into the barrel of his gun. I can smell the metal.

"Who ordered you to kill Chen?"

"I thought you guys did!" I growled up at him, more or less helpless on the ground. My hand slowly reached for my belt, but the man's finger firmed on the trigger.

"Don't even try, boy, I know what kind of tricks you have in your belt. Now get up!"

"Can't. Sorry."

"Get up!"

"I really can't, my legs won't work! I'm injured!" I lied, hoping he'll believe me.

"Fine. You can answer some questions right where you are, then. How long have you been working with Deathstroke?"

"Um… I was freeing him, not working for him."

"Are you playing dumb?"

"Not often, no."

"Deathstroke! You're wearing his uniform and you don't know who he is?"

"Wait… _Slade_ is Deathstroke?" I blinked. Slade has an alias? I felt insulted that I didn't know.

"Clearly wasting my time," the man snarled and I could see his arm straighten for the shot. It never comes, though, because the Russian suddenly lost his head. Literally.

"There you are," Slade smirked at me, and, from this angle, it looked like his head is on the other man's body. As the Russian seems to realize that he's dead, he fell to the ground and my rescuer pushed him out of the way to get to me, lifting me up. His mask is off and incredibly enough he's wearing his street clothes. When the hell did he have time to change?

"I could kiss you," I joke shakily. I don't think I've been that close to death in my life, and honestly I'm relieved I haven't wet myself.

"Fine."

Some things in my rather short life has shocked or surprised me. Finding out who Batman was. Fighting very unpredictable, half mad, villains. Learning about pink kryptonite. They all kind of faded compared to feeling Slade's lips against mine.

I tried to say something –I have no idea what− but that also kind of merged into the kiss. It was… it was… my eyes suddenly snapped open and I pushed violently at the man.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"You let me do that longer than expected," he just chuckled and then hoisted me over his shoulder. I was about to kick the living daylights out of him when I realized that my legs still didn't work.

"I… I still can't-" I said, a rush of dread filling me. Was I paralyzed for life?

"I'm reversing it right now, it will just take a few minutes and we need to leave." I felt something stroking against my behind.

"Did you just wipe your sword on my ass?"

"Yes." He bent to pick something off the ground, our back-up bag, I saw, as he slung it over his other shoulder, almost smashing my face in. Then he started running like he can't even feel my weight.

"What about the_ other_ Russian?" I reminded him.

"He split."

As we passed another dead body I could see it was literal again, I almost threw up all over Slade's back. Not that he hadn't deserved it.

Soon my legs started to tingle in the worst way, and then the numbness went away.

"Let me down, I can walk now!"

"Finally." Slade stopped and I barely wobbled when I was put back down on my feet. Proud of that. "Get dressed. Take your mask off." He pulled my civilian clothes –more or less a track suit− from the bag and shoved them into my arms. "No, over the armor, we don't have time," he added as he ripped my mask off.

"Ouch!"

"Crybaby. Ready? Good. Hold on." He grabbed me and jumped off the building. I then realized he didn't have a grappling hook.

To grab the fire escape with one hand and hold on to me with the other would take incredible strength, but he does it. The sudden stop should have just ripped me out of his arms, even though I try to hold on as much as I can myself. I found myself not plummeting towards the asphalt, however, and the next drop is low enough so I might have been able to make it in a clinch.

We made it back to the hotel on foot, far enough from the target building to feel somewhat safe.

"Where's your sword?" I asked suddenly, as I realized that it was missing.

"Hidden, with the rest of the weapons. If they are not found I'll have someone retrieve them and sent them to me in a month or so," he explained. "This is not a good time to be caught with weapons."

I wasvery focused on getting to safety as well, so it wasn't until we got back to our hotel, sneaking in by the roof, the same way we got out, that I turned to my so called 'master' and slammed a fist into his face with all the force I could muster.

Funnily enough I still couldn't scream at him, because we had neighbors, after all, so I ended up yelling in whispers.

"You fucking _bastard_! You were going to kill him! You_ lied_ to me!"

Slade, of course, wouldn't just realize that he _deserved_ a punch to the face. Instead he efficiently retaliated, and since I actually don't dare to fight in here in case someone comes in, I pretty quickly end up pinned on the bed, him straddling me, holding my wrists with one hand over my head. This position isn't optimal for what I'm about to say next.

"And you kissed me! What the hell are you thinking?! I'm sixteen!"

"Seventeen."

"What?"

"Seventeen. Happy birthday."

That made me lose my steam for a bit as I stared slack jawed into space, trying to figure out the date. My time in captivity had completely messed things up. I thought my birthday was next week or something. I eventually came to the conclusion that he's right. Not that it mattered.

"I don't care! You're a horrible, vile-" here he slapped a hand over my mouth, and maybe I was becoming a bit too loud there at the end.

"I. Am. Your. Master."

He's not joking. He's not in the mood to allow anymore lip from me, I could tell. I looked away, steaming, and he took it as the surrender it was, and removed his hand.

"You made me kill him," I muttered, trying to explain that my anger isn't_ just_ coming from the surprise kiss.

"That was you? Perfect shot, congratulations."

"You were right _there_," I growled.

"I was a bit busy dying. Thanks to you."

"You… you actually_ died_?" What was this man? A vampire? Zombie?

"I can tell you mourned."

"Yes. Still have confetti in my hair from it," I snorted, feeling his grip on my wrists tighten. Oops. Too soon. "You're… immortal?"

"No. And I didn't exactly die. My body went into a sort of… reboot. When it does, I might become a bit… disoriented for a while afterwards. You might do well to stay away from me for a while if it should happen again."

"Yeah, I noticed you were deranged," I said, meaning the kiss. "But you lied to me! You told me we were going to rescue him! If you were going to kill him, who didn't you go in after him yourself?"

"Continue that thought and you might come up with the answer."

That made me realize something. "We had clothes for him. A rendezvous point. He _was _meant to live! That phone call! The clients changed their minds!"

"They did. It was decided that he was too much of a liability. It was too late to change the plan, however. I could have gone in myself, shot everyone in sight, but this way you got some field practice too. You did well. Up until the point you kicked my gun out of my hand… I should have predicted that, though."

"And the other Russians?"

"_They _wanted him alive, at least for the time being. I believe they were part of the underground movement in Russia. Anti-government."

"Pity they didn't get their wish, then."

"Well, they would have gotten rid of him in the end. He would have known too much for their liking as well."

"Who the hell are the good guys here then?" I snorted in frustration.

"Robin, Robin, Robin… " he sighed and then smiled –a genuine smile, like I really brightened his fucking day or something− "…what made you think there _are_ any good guys when politics are involved?"

I have no answer for that. I guess I should have known better.

"I killed him," I repeated to myself, just trying to understand it. No. No, I _understand_ it, I understand it _perfectly_… but I don't _feel_ it. I should be completely distraught, but I was mainly angry because I thought Slade had lied to me, played me for a fool.

He had no reply for me, he merely shrugged, and, at long last, he got off me, sitting back against the headboard next to me. I hurriedly sat up too, but I don't get up. That would be a little childish of me, and hey; I'm seventeen.

I remembered what I had realized on that rooftop, not that long ago; either the spy died or I would. There was no 'maybe if I had reached for a knock out pellet' or 'maybe if I had aimed at his shoulder', because there simply wasn't any time to think… and besides, there are no places on the body that are 'safe' to be shot. The shoulder, especially, with many large veins close by and complicated bone structure that, if injured, could cripple you for life. Even if you are shot in the leg you can bleed out in a manner of minutes… which reminded me…

"I can't believe you are still alive."

"I can't believe that I take my apprentice out on our first mission together and manages to get shot."

I let out a laugh, because he truly sounds _disgusted _with himself.

"Damn rookie," I agreed, and he chuckled as well.

I raised my walls a bit then, because that moment felt too much like 'bonding' to be comfortable.

"What you did, Robin," he said, serious once more. "Never, _ever _do that again. I mean it. You won't get a second chance, and if you disobey me like that again, attack me on a mission… I have to make sure you obey from then on… and you won't like it. Even_ I_ won't like it."

"Um... won't… won't like _what_?" I asked, hating myself for stuttering a bit.

"I'm not going to tell you. Let's just say that I like you as you are. Your personality, even your insolence –to _some_ extent. I could take all of it away, though. Keep only your physical abilities and the logical, clinical side of your brain. But I'd rather not."

"Was that why you kissed me?" The words were out of my mouth before I lost my nerve to ask.

"What?"

"Because you… umm… _like_ me?"

"You _asked_ me to kiss you."

"It was an _expression_!"

"I took it as a challenge."

"Remind me never to challenge you again."

"I thought I just did."

"Right. Point taken."

"Good. But joking aside, no that wasn't why I kissed you. It was a 'shock absorber'."

"A what?"

"You had just killed, were a second away from getting shot in the head, and then you got a close up view of a decapitation. I couldn't have you curl up in a fetal position. When I lifted you up, I actually planned to knock you unconscious, but you gave me another way out. And it worked."

"It sure got me something else to think about!" I exclaimed, and the words were followed by a short, slightly hysterical laugh.

"Want me to kiss you again?"

"I'm okay!"

"Very well."

"So you're gay?"

"No."

"But-"

"I've dabbled a few times. Only a few. Maybe I could be considered bisexual, but I'm not interested in labels. I'm an opportunist. When I see something I like, I take it."

"That's more _thief _than opportunist," I pointed out.

"Metaphors are wasted on you, apparently."

"Well, I'm not up for grabs. I didn't like it."

"You could have fooled me."

"It was just the surprise!"

"Sure it was."

A noise of frustration escaped me, but I let it go. Cy and BB can be like this sometimes too, and there's just no way to win.

"So… what now?"

"We look for our next job."

"We're… not going back then?"

"Probably not. Not for a while, anyway. East Europe and Asia is profitable at the moment, but we'll see what pops up. I have people working on leads."

"You have a lot of 'people' don't you? Do you have Christmas parties as well?"

"I think you've misunderstood. I have a handful of contacts who earns commissions if they get me anything good. They aren't full time employees."

"And the ones in the airports?"

"That's just about knowing who needs money," the man chuckled.

"Ah. Um… about you being alive… healing powers, I assume?"

"Yes. They aren't perfect, so I try not to get shot much. If I's this bad, though, deadly, they work quicker, but it's taxing."

"Need a nap?"

"A bit." I was surprised that he admitted it. "One thing, though… did you happen to see if the first bullet went through?"

"Yeah, it did, it almost got me too," I confirmed.

"Good. That helps."

"You're not healed yet? I thought you said it worked quicker?"

"Also said it wasn't perfect. I need a day or so."

"So if I start running now…?"

"I'll catch you in the hallway."

"Might be worth the chance…"

"I might kiss you again."

"Oh. Better not risk it, then," I shrugged. "Can we just stay here, though? Is it safe?"

"Why not? No one knows who we are or where to look."

"Ah… yeah, I guess."

"I'm going to rest. Don't leave the room."

"No, Sir," I sighed, knowing better than to try that.

After only a few minutes I heard Slade's breathing slow and deepen. I glanced over at him. He looked to be asleep. His face was relaxed, which made it seem younger. I wasn't sure I liked it, because it stirred some unwelcome feelings inside me; my inner fighter told me that I could kick this man's ass, find and take the controllers, and escape. Luckily my more reasonable side told me that I was crazy to risk my friend's lives like that.

I then realized that he hasn't threatened the Titan's lives since we left. Me, yes, but not_ them_. Is it a strategy? Is he trying the 'out of sight, out of mind' thing?

I rolled my eyes at myself; just trying to figure him out was just doomed to fail…I suddenly remembered something that had been drowned out by everything else until now, and I pushed the man next to me awake.

"What?" he grumbled.

"You call yourself _Deathstroke_?"

* * *

I wasn't tired, not really, but after the little 'chat' about his alias I assumed that Slade wanted me to be quiet, so I got comfortable, and surprisingly quickly I was asleep.

I woke up just as suddenly, however, with a cry, almost a scream. The front of my clothes was soaked in sweat, my heart was hammering in my chest, and –even worse− my cheeks were wet with tears streaming down my face like a spring flood. I was still in a panic after the nightmare or whatever it was, and started to fight as I felt someone holding me, then pressing a hand over my mouth.

"Shhh… you're having a delayed reaction to the shock," Slade said in my ear. "Be quiet or someone will call the front desk."

It took a few moments for me to wake up properly but eventually I relaxed, sag actually, and his grip loosened. The hand disappeared from my mouth as well, letting me take some deep breaths.

"Sorry," I muttered, feeling embarrassed. I've had nightmares before, but no one has ever been there to witness it.

I felt like I was suffocating, and that's not so strange as I suddenly realized that I'm still wearing the track suit on top of my uniform –armor and all. I got up, kicked off my shoes and ripped off the jacket.

"Strip show?" Slade asked from the bed.

"Shut up!" I hissed, and kept getting rid of my armor, piece by piece. "I'm hot."

"Quite."

I snarled a few well chosen words at him, and got rid of the track suit pants as well, then my leg armor. But it wasn't enough. The sweat-soaked front of my uniform was clinging to me. Cold and horrible. I pulled my top over my head as well, and let it fall to the floor. It wasn't working. I was still too hot.

"Breathe."

I looked over at Slade, who had given the order, like he's crazy. "I'm trying!" I claimed as I rubbed at my face and those damn tears. They can't seem to quite stop. I heard a clinking and a rustling sound, and looked up again. He's undressing as well.

"It was just a dream, Robin."

"I… kn-kn-know." Suddenly I wasn't hot anymore, but freezing cold, my teeth clattering.

"I think you need another shock." He appeared before me, bare-chested, and I took a step back.

"No more kissing!"

"Fine," he smirked, grabbed my shoulders, and before I knew it I was in the bathroom, under the shower, and-

"AAAH!" The ice cold water feelt like it's laced with electricity and daggers.

"Shh, it's very early in the morning," he had the gall to chasten me. He was right there, water streaming down his chest as well, droplets getting stuck in the hairs there, his nipples stiffening from the cold. Mine has too, I notice, but I can't find the energy to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable right now. The bullet wounds are visible as two pink splotches on his chest, but look like they will fade, not even scar, within a day or so. He turned the heat up and soon it started to feel good, like I'm melting, and I leaned my head back against the tiles, my face just out of the spray, my eyes closed. I found my breathing again. I've also realized something.

"I… still don't feel bad about it." I lowered my head as I sai it. I'm ashamed of myself. Ashamed that I don't feel worse when I do, at least not when awake.

"You shouldn't."

"I should!"

He tilted my head up with a firm grasp on my jaw.

"Listen to your master, apprentice." I'm forced to look into his single eye. He was still standing completely under the spray, and for a moment it looked funny to me, his hair plastered against his head, water running over the eye patch. "Not even your first mentor would blame you for defending yourself. No jury would convict you. You did what you had to. If you hadn't, you would have been in a morgue right now, and if you were unlucky they would have identified you as well. As Richard Grayson. Bruce would get a very unwelcomed phone call, and, on top of that, some very hard questions to answer. His identity might be revealed. Maybe they wouldn't be able to ID you, though… meaning he would never find out what happened. I don't know what's worse."

"He… wouldn't? You… you wouldn't tell him?" I asked carefully.

"Would you want me to?"

As much as I didn't want Batman to find out about this, about what I have been forced to do, I nodded. "Yes. If… if anything should happen…"

"Then I will."

"Could you… um… could you also tell him why? Why I was with you, I mean? I don't want him to think… too badly of me."

"No. The 'why' will change in time, and I don't want you to think that everything will be settled if you die. If there's even the smallest suspicion that you didn't do all you could to survive, he'll find out you died as my apprentice, and you'll be to blame for your friend's deaths as well."

The water suddenly felt icy cold again.

"Is that understood?" he asked sternly.

"Yes, Master."

"Good boy." He gestured to the soap and shampoo. "Now get undressed and take a proper shower. I'll order breakfast."

After I'm done he showered as well and then the food arrived. I was getting a bit claustrophobic in here and really wished we could have gone down to the restaurant I assumed the complex had. Seemed Slade was getting a bit sick of the room as well.

"Put our uniforms and armor away in the suitcase and lock it, so the maid doesn't stumble over anything she shouldn't, then change into work out gear and meet me downstairs. There's a gym on the basement floor, according to the hotel flyers."

"We're going to the gym?"

"You thought you would be allowed to slack off?"

"No, Sir," I snorted, rolling my eyes. I was secretly _ecstatic_ about getting to work out, but there was no reason that he should know that, was there?

He could probably see the disappointment on my face when I found him fifteen minutes later and he told me there's been a change of plans, though.

"What? Wasn't it open?" I asked.

"It was, but it can wait. We're," he said and handed me a small, red thing made out of some kind of spandex material, "going swimming."

"What? Wait… Speedos?" I groaned, realizing what I'm holding.

"It was the only pair the hotel had in your size. We are lucky they had any swimwear on loan at all."

His face was very straight, so it was hard to read. I hoped he was telling the truth, but I wasn't sure. He was wearing the fake eye again too, which now looked a bit weird to me, as I had gotten used to the eye patch. Still, swimming would be great, so I felt optimistic as I followed him to the pool, which was right next to the gym as it turned out.

It was pretty big, not full size but more than enough for exercise. There was also a kiddie-pool next to it. No one was here this early, though.

I changed my mind about how great it all was when we got to the locker rooms. There were no private booths, just a row of benches. Slade began undressing and gave me a look over his shoulder.

"Do you need help or something?"

"N-no, I just…"

"We're both men, remember? I'd be very surprised if you have something I haven't seen before."

"Yes, but you're… you're…" I glanced around, but the changing rooms were deserted as well. "You're _bi_."

"I promise not to rape you. Unless you drop the soap."

I blushed and then, very quickly, started to change, with my back to him. It turned out that he had found a pair of proper trunks for himself, but my Speedos didn't leave much to the imagination. I couldn't _wait _to get in the water.

"Ten laps front crawl, ten backstroke and then repeat," he told me as we entered the pool area after having used the showers in the equally open shower room. Did Swedes just _hate _privacy, or what?

I nodded at the order and dived in. The pool was heated and the water felt great. Slade dived in as well and made almost less of a splash than me, which was a knock to my pride, but I set off through the water hoping to keep in front of him for a while at least. That lasted for about five glorious seconds.

It turned out, however, that we were more evenly matched in the water. He was stronger, but his bulk held him back. After three repetitions, however, I was getting tired and he didn't seem to have noticed that he was swimming yet.

A few other people had joined us by then, early birds there for the exercise, no kids so far. As my arms and back were burning by now, I decided to slack off a bit, and rolled over on my back, floating blissfully with my arms and legs stretched out. It was very relaxing until I was suddenly tugged under the surface.

I came up spluttering, and the first thing I saw was that annoying grin of Slade's.

"Getting tired?"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly inhuman like someone else I know," I whispered back.

"One more rep," he ordered.

"Yes, Master," I mumbled, so no one else would hear me.

As we swam even more people join us, and now there are some kids and teens too, mostly goofing around. It's almost a relief to leave… although since when do I prefer to be alone with Slade? I figured I felt nervous having him around other people, like he was a dog with short, sudden bursts of rabies or something… I was afraid something might happen, even though I kind of knew it wouldn't. Slade was in control of himself and he situation and I was just along for the ride. My Master's keeper, that was me. Without a leash.

That thought spun around my head quite a few times, so I didn't even notice Slade stopping until I walked right into his wet body.

"Weren't you complaining about privacy before?" he asked as he started to push his trunks down. I whipped around in time , before I saw anything I'd probably be having nightmares about.

"We're hitting the showers and then the sauna," he said, sounding amused at my embarrassment.

"Sauna?"

"We're in Scandinavia, after all. Sure, it's not a_ true_ sauna, but it will be good for your muscles after that workout."

I wanted to tell him no, but I could already feel the strain in my back. I hadn't swum like that for a long time, and it seemed my body had discovered some new muscle groups or something.

With a towel around my hips I followed Slade into the showers, where he just took his off. Again I was able to look away in time. He wasn't the only naked man around now, though. Again I wondered about Swedes and their decency, but everyone was acting casual which didn't make it too horrible to hang the towel up and step under the spray, but I quickly snapped it up again when we headed to the sauna.

In there I saw the most amount of naked men I'd ever seen at once. Five. Only one wore his towel, the others were just sitting on them. Slade climbed to one of the highest benches and I found that I'd rather follow him than sit down next to a naked stranger.

I saw that my 'master' drew a few looks of admiration and envy and I couldn't blame the other guys; he _did_ look like a prime example of maleness, but they didn't know what_ I_ knew, after all.

I sat down on the wooden bench, leaned back against the wall behind me, closed my eyes and relaxed. The heat had felt like a wall at first, the air hard to breathe, but it was slowly seeping into me, making the knots in both my muscles and my stomach gradually dissolve.

Two of the men were talking about something, and then a third joined into the discussion. A question was asked, and to my surprise, Slade answered. After a flurry of questions in his direction a voice finally said something I could understand.

"We can speak English if you wish. I mean for your boy's sake?"

That got my attention. I was nobody's 'boy', least of all _Slade's_! When I opened my eyes to snap back, though, I was met by two things; a warning glare from the man himself, and the realization that he was just sitting_ on_ his towel now.

Dear fucking god in heaven, that was something I did _not _want to see! Well, I _would_ have liked to see it if it was _tiny_. That would have been fun. It wasn't. It was… proportional. To Slade. Or a small elephant. With balls to match.

Okay, maybe the elephant was an exaggeration, and I've seen bigger. On freaky porn sites, but I've _seen_ bigger. And about this time, I realized that I was staring at my supposed 'father's' crotch.

Luckily it had only been a second and I masked it by pretending to wipe sweat off my face.

"Um, no need for my sake," I mumbled.

"These gentlemen were talking about the tradition of a cold dip after or in the middle of a sauna and were thinking of taking a cold shower as there's no such thing as a cold pool here. They asked if we wanted to join them," Slade explained.

"Um, no, I'm good. You go," I said, hoping that experience might shrink a certain something down a bit.

"Very well. Stay put and out of trouble, son," he said and got up from his towel, leaving it behind.

The others chuckled at the light chiding, and my expression after being called 'son' probably matched an ordinary rebuked teen's perfectly.

All but one man left. He, instead, decided to be friendly and climbed up to my bench. Peachy. I had already deducted one or two things about these men: they all knew each other, but weren't family so I would guess they were from the same company. Neither of them looked like he had slept, there was a faint smell of beer in the sauna –getting more potent now when the guy came closer− and even though I can't understand Swedish, a few of them seemed to slur pretty badly. It _could _be a dialect, yes, but 'hung over' or rather 'still drunk' fit better. Conclusion: some kind of office party/getaway/convention and they hadn't gone to bed yet. 'Why not check out the sauna?' seemed like an idea a half-drunken mind would come up with at this time in the morning. A half drunken one, and Slade's.

"So you are from America, then? What part?" the man asked. He was one of the 'comfortably naked' ones, though he didn't have that much on show.

"Yea, um… New York," I lied, not wanting to give anything away. I have been to the Big Apple enough times to fake it if it turned out he had as well. He just nodded eagerly and said something about 'the City That Never Sleeps' and skyscrapers.

"So what do you think of Sweden, then?"

He was just a friendly, innocent man trying to make conversation, so I pulled myself out of my anger towards Slade and smiled at him. "It's nice so far… a bit gray."

"Thought there would be meters of snow and polar bears, didn't you?" he guffawed.

I had to bite my lip to not respond that I wasn't an idiot and that I knew there weren't any polar bears in Sweden, but I just smiled a bit more stiffly and shook my head.

"Well, I hope you have a good time… Your father… he's not really your father is he?"

As I didn't think Slade had deserved the role, I shook my head. "Nah," I said, and was just about to explain that he was my adoptive father or something along that line, when the man placed a hand lightly on my thigh.

"Do you think he'd mind if you and me…?"

I had many options in that moment, I admit. I could punch the guy's lights out, which was very tempting, but would most likely lead to trouble, maybe even the police being called. Slade would _not_ like that. In fact, I felt like I should let _him_ handle this situation completely.

"DAAAAAD!"

As they were just going out to the showers right outside, and Slade had great hearing, I knew it would only be a moment before he rushed through the doors and I was right.

"Robin?"

He actually looked concerned. Either that was great acting or it was sweet of him, I don't know, but he had time to see the man hastily move away from me, and drew his own conclusions.

"What the _hell_ are you doing with my son?" Slade roared, and even I got a bit scared by that voice. I had almost crushed his only eye with my heel once, and I had never heard him sound that livid. I hurried down to him, standing a bit behind him as if seeking protection. If he could act, so could I.

"He- he said you- you weren't his… his father," the man stammered. We now had an audience as the other guys had returned.

"Not my _biological _dad, no!" I quickly said before Slade got pissed at _me_. "I thought that's what you meant, since we don't look the same! I didn't want you to start_ pawing_ me!"

"Are you saying he thought you were a … a… _rent boy_?" Slade turned to the man still covering on the highest bench. "My son is fifteen!"

"I thought he was older! I swear! I mean… I didn't really- I- It was a misunderstanding!"

I didn't like being called fifteen, I thought I looked much older than that, older than seventeen too in fact, but apparently not. Slade wouldn't have claimed it if it didn't seem reasonable.

"Should… should we call the manager? The police?" one of the man's office buddies offered.

"Did he hurt you?" Slade asked me and cupped my cheek with one hand, while placing the other one on my shoulder. Oh, and yes, he was still naked.

"N-no." I sounded shaken, because I was. Not by the 'molesting', though, oh no. I just had my fill of naked Slade for a lifetime. "Nothing happened, he just… touched my leg and… it was creepy."

"All right. We won't press charges, then, but if I see you around here again…" Slade growled up at the man, his hands still on me. "Come on. We're leaving," he told me next.

A quick shower, changing… it didn't feel quite as awkward anymore, being naked around him. I guess you just have to see a certain amount of swinging dong before you get desensitized or something.

"So, what really happened?" he asked once we were back in our room. "How bad was it?" his voice was till laced with anger, which was surprising… I thought it was all for show.

"Like I said, he just touched my thigh and seemed to suggest that he wanted to 'borrow' me. So I yelled for daddy," I ended dryly, making a face.

He smirked and ruffled my hair. "Good boy."

Suddenly a phone signal went off and Slade snatched his cell up, answering on the second ring. He switched to Swedish almost at once, and was on the phone for roughly ten minutes before he lowered it. He looked over at me and grinned.

"You're going to see the capital after all. We have a new job. In Stockholm."

_To be Continued… eventually._

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A/N: Okay, so that was the story. There's more, I'm _planning_ more, but if it will be out in a month or six months or so, I don't know. I only have time to really write on the weekends now, and as I didn't plan for this story to happen… well…

Encouragement might help, though…. ;) You know me, I never hold a story "hostage", but if I find out that people liked this one and want to write more, I will be more spurred on to work on this instead of something else, that's only natural , after all… and please let me know where you want this story to go, if you have ideas for missions or what might happen, because it's pretty open so far…

All the best!

/Wynja


	4. Stockholm Stories, part 1

A/N: Hiiii! Here's more of "The Good Boy" I have 3 parts written, but it's not finished yet, so I won't post all the parts at once as I did last time. Once I finish this arch I'll post them quicker, though, but I have very little time for editing, and need a beta. If you want to beta, all you need to do is PM me. YOu can do just the next chapter, or the rest of this arch, that's up to you.

* * *

**The Good Boy **

**Stockholm Stories, part 1**

"Why can't you stop touching your crotch?!"

There _was_ a reason for my outburst, a good one. You see, the more I saw of Slade, and I had seen it _all _just the day before, the more I noticed his little habits and quirks. So yesterday, for example, we hit the gym in the evening, even though we went swimming the very same morning, and I saw him adjusting himself after getting up from a bench at a machine. Fine. When you get sweaty things get… stuck and clothes rides up on you, it's kind of a guy thing, I can relate to that. The same evening, however, we were in bed together –not like that!- watching TV, and he scratched himself. Like I wasn't even there. My balls would have to itch like hell before I would even_ think_ of doing the same thing! There could be a colony of fire ants living in them, and I'd keep my damn hands to myself.

Now, we were sitting on the train from Gothenburg to Stockholm, a journey of almost five hours as he didn't want to 'waste money' on a speed train. We were currently alone in a small carriage, sitting across from each other with a table between us and he had just adjusted himself again. Not that I could see it, but I knew what that move meant.

As an answer to my, very reasonable, question, he just arched a brow, smirked, and said;

"What? Did you want to do it for me?"

"Maybe you need to see a doctor for that itch, that's all I'm saying," I muttered. Maybe I was a tiiiiny bit unfair; he _did _use his hands for a few other things, after all, but it was getting annoying. He should show some kind or respect and decency, I thought.

"Your interest in my crotch has been noted and is appreciated."

"The hell!? I'm not int-!"

"Quiet, Robin."

The order came like a whiplash, making me speechless, meaning I actually obeyed without really _meaning _to. The next second the door to our train car opened and another passenger came through, giving us a bit of an embarrassed look and then passed us on the way to the toilet. Yeah. We had discovered quite quickly that this compartment was small and therefore fairly private, because it contained one of the train's bathrooms. Swedish people seemed to have very small bladders too.

"Focus on your work," Slade told me as he himself was tapping away on his phone.

"I want to know a bit more about what we're gonna do, though," I tried, keeping my voice down. "Nothing too bad, right?"

"Though I'm glad you said 'we', it's hardly your business to worry. You will just do as you're told."

I huffed and stared down and my list of common Swedish phrases. Why did he have to act like that? He had opened up now and then, and I much preferred when he- I stopped myself. I had to remember that Slade was the _enemy_. It was hard to keep up my guard, though, especially after what had happened in Gothenburg. As time wore on I might really start thinking of him and me as 'we', and that couldn't happen. He wouldn't get me_ that_ easily.

When the man came out of the bathroom I looked him in the eye and nodded.

"Ha en bra dag!" I told him confidently.

"Umm… tack?" he said and fled.

"What? Was that wrong?" I asked Slade.

"No, but maybe people aren't used to being wished a good day by strangers after just taking a piss," Slade told me. "Don't interact with the locals unless I tell you to, boy, I don't want to attract any attention."

"Then maybe you should stop rubbing your junk," I muttered, very, _very_ quietly.

From a place called 'Skövde', impossible to pronounce, even Slade had trouble, we were joined by a mother and her young teen children, a girl and a boy. Slade struck up a conversation with the mom while I felt awkward as fuck. Fortunately the kids, I guess they were around thirteen, soon were fixated on their mobile phones. I wish I had something else but Slade's 'friendly voice' to focus on as well, because he was happily telling the woman that he was taking his son to see the capital of 'this amazing country'. I wanted to rush to the bathroom as well. He was speaking English now, not Swedish, as no normal tourist would know the language. They were soon engrossed in everything from history to the social structure of this place, and my annoyance grew. Why the hell didn't he just ignore her? Wasn't_ this _drawing attention to himself? Tell _her _to shut up, why didn't he? Being all nice and chatty and flirty… damn hypocrite!

To punish him I just pretended to study and instead focused on any idea I could come up with to escape. What I needed, of course, was the controller. The problem was that since we left I hadn't seen the usual one, with the button on it, but I had managed to figure out what he used now; his phone. It made sense, I supposed, because he could send signals much farther that way, and my 'new and improved' nano bots were more high tech as well. The question was; did he have a back up? Could he also, for example, use his computer? Any computer? Any phone? No, not any. That, I thought, would be too much of a risk. I had a feeling the functions would need some special software, something that not just anyone could find and hack into.

I narrowed it down to his phone and his laptop, then. So if I was to run, I needed to take –or destroy- both. Great. Might as well be his leg and his spleen. As long as the screen was locked he could leave his computer in the room, but he took his_ phone _everywhere, including the bathroom. If he didn't have it on him, it was hidden or locked up. Then there was the problem with actually getting away, especially here. I'm no coward, but part of me wanted to wait until we were back in the states, but then I realized that it could be years. If ever. My heart clenched and I felt my eyes burn a little. I've tried to push every thought of my friends away; they only hurt. So much. I wish they would find out about the nano-bots inside them and get rid of them… or maybe they already had? How was I to know? If that was to happen the game would change. If it was just me on the line I wouldn't obey so easily, trust me! He would have to beat me into submission and even then I'd rather suck his dick than commit a crime for him.

_Where the hell did that come from?_

Still, I would, I guess. Then I'd bite it off. Yeah.

We arrived around four and walked from the grand central station to what was called the 'old town'… and boy, was it old! Sure, blocks like this weren't uncommon in European cities, but they made all American houses look like new builds. Several of the streets were really narrow, as were many of the house fronts. Slade, who could never resist an opportunity for a lecture, told me that the oldest family house here was most likely from 1336, but many were rebuilds from around 1600. The oldest street name, still in use, was first mentioned in 1323. It was on this street, Köpmangatan, merchant street, where he suddenly stopped by a doorway and then entered the house. I hadn't seen a hotel sign, but followed him up a worn flight of stone steps and then gaped as he withdrew a set of keys and opened one of the doors there.

"Home sweet home."

"This is your place?" I looked around. It was very sparsely furnished but the empty feeling was mostly, I guessed , from the lack of decorative items. It still _looked_ like a hotel room.

"Yes. One of my bolt holes. Here." He removed a key from the small bundle he was holding and handed it to me.

"You're… giving me a key? Why?"

"Because I think we've reached that stage in our relationship," he snorted, and shook his head. "No, because I might need you to run errands for me while I'm doing other things, of course. Or if you kill more people and have to hide."

"Oh. Okay."

"I don't understand why you seem so surprised," Slade said. "It's not like you can run from me."

No. No it wasn't. Yet. I clenched my jaw, didn't let him push my buttons and occupied myself by taking a tour of the apartment. It was over almost as fast as it begun, because it turned out to only have one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a rather small living room as well. The ceiling was very high, though, with white moldings. Both the bedroom and the living room had a type of stove which Slade told me were called masonry stoves or 'tile stoves', covered in beautifully decorated tiles, blue on white. He lit a small fire in both of them, because the heat had been turned down while the apartment had been unoccupied. There was not a speck of dust anywhere, however, so the man obviously paid for it to be kept clean. What also was missing, of course, was a second bed. This time, however, there was a sofa. It was one of those square looking fabric ones on chromed metal legs and it didn't look very comfortable. I sat down on it and confirmed as much, but it would have to do, I guessed.

"Here." Slade came up to me and pushed a few Swedish bills in my hand, each reading '100'. "Go out and get us some groceries. Two cartons of milk, six eggs, some bread, butter… we'll be eating our hot meals out, it's easier that way, so stick to breakfast things."

"Um… okay? So where's the store?"

"Couldn't say, I haven't been in this particular area for years, I usually stay in another part of Stockholm. Look around. There's bound to be one. Call me if you get lost. You can take your time, stretch your legs a bit, but be back in less than three hours. I'm going out too in a bit, but that won't take long."

I nodded, happy to be allowed out on my own. When I hadn't found a convenience store after half an hour, however, I was beginning to wonder how far I would have to walk. The thing is that the 'old town' wasn't that big. There were a lot of very narrow streets, and even narrower alleys, crisscrossing each other, though, and I realized that Slade hadn't been joking about getting lost.

The last of the snow and ice was melting away almost as I watched, dripping from roofs and running in rivulets between the stones on the cobbled streets. It really was spring here after all, or at least a very nice day.

There were no lack of stores around, but they seemed to be coffee shops, restaurants and antique dealers, mostly. Oh, and tourist traps. I had no idea why anyone would want a huge wooden moose painted in the Swedish colors of yellow and blue. Or small plastic 'Vikings' either. Or moose poo. Actual moose poo. What the freaking fuck?

Eventually I spotted a woman carrying a plastic bag with a leek sticking out of the top. She didn't look like the kind of person who would like to carry a bag that heavy very far, so I thought I might be close. I took a look at the logo of the bag and noted the color and name. 'Coop'. That didn't really sound like a grocery store, but fine. I intensified my searching and after turning two corners I found it, by a small square of some sort.

Shopping didn't take long and wasn't as tricky as I thought it would be, considering the language difference. I hope I had actually bought milk and not cream or something, though. I avoided talking to anyone. I was afraid. Not that I'd get punished, but that I wouldn't be able to stop myself, that I'd break down and ask for help. It might work, yes, but the risk was just too big as long as Slade had the controller. It was so frustrating to have so many ways to send the Titans a message right now –an internet café, asking to borrow a phone at a hotel or something, write them a fucking postcard! – and just not _daring_ to do it! I didn't _think_ I was being watched, but this might very well be a test. Slade might just be _waiting_ for a reason to push that button… I didn't _know_.

Great, and now I was getting paranoid.

Scratch that. I grew up with Batman, after all; I was getting _more_ paranoid.

Slade had sent quite a lot of money with me, so I couldn't resist; I bought him a present on the way back. You get one guess what it was. I even had it gift wrapped.

When I entered the apartment –actually proud that I found it in the first place− he was in. I could tell that he had run whatever errand he were going on because there were some bags by the bedroom door which hadn't been there before.

"Did you have a nice walk?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, and then handed him the gift. "For you, Master."

"Why?"

"I saw it and thought of you."

His expression when he opened the gift was rather priceless. I tried to keep the shit eating grin off my face, because I had a feeling it would become rather literal if I didn't.

"Very cute, apprentice," Slade said and then went to put the miniature basket thing on a shelf! Did he really think it was a gift? He couldn't be that stu- "Put the groceries away and then drop and give me twenty-five pushups on your knuckles, twenty-five sit-ups and then repeat until I tell you to stop."

"What? Why?" Like I didn't know.

"For wasting my money, apprentice. And you just earned yourself twenty-five crunches as well for questioning an order. Understood?"

I could take a hint if it was repeatedly rubbed in my face. "Yes, Master."

"Get to it."

I had been at it for about half an hour, and getting tired, when my damn mouth wouldn't stay shut.

"This is stupid," I muttered. If I had been lucky, he wouldn't have heard me, because he was at his computer right across the room. I wasn't lucky.

"You're right. The punishment_ is_ stupid. Let's make it fifty of each."

"Son of a-"

"And some jumping jacks."

I stayed quiet after that. Well… apart from gasping for breath.

Over one and a half hour, pushing two. I had entered some kind of zone in order to push on because there was no way I was giving up. Slade had to speak up because apparently I didn't hear him the first time.

"Take a shower and then do our laundry."

I just nodded and turned towards the bathroom. I hadn't been told to change before the punishment started, and my jeans and hoodie which I had chosen to wear on the train were now absolutely soaked.

The bathroom, as well as the kitchen, were modern and fully fitted. I dropped my clothes on the floor and stumbled into the power-shower, leaving moist, sweaty footprints behind. I just stood in the shower for a full five minutes before even reaching for any soap.

Once I got out I discovered that even though there were bottles of shampoo and such, even new toothbrushes and toothpaste, there were no towels out. It kinda made sense that they would only get dusty and was probably folded away in some linen closet somewhere, but where? I only had my sweaty clothes to cover myself with, and I'd rather not even touch them, so I opened the door a tiny bit, swallowed my pride –I had to swallow twice− and called out.

"Sir?" No answer. Another swallow. "Master?"

"Yes?" Slade came out into the hallway from the kitchen, and I closed the door just a little bit more.

"Um… there are no towels, could you…?"

"Certainly."

It turned out that the towels were in that very same hallway, and that I probably could have snuck out and got some without him seeing me if I had only known where they were. Dammit. I cursed that fact even more when he didn't had them to me directly but gave me an order first.

"Open the door. Let me see you."

"What, why?!"

"Questioning orders again, apprentice? It's not for mere entertainment, I have a decision to make."

"And seeing me naked will help you make it? Master?" I tried not to growl.

"Exactly. _Now_, Robin, I'm busy."

One calming breath later and I opened the door fully, glaring at him as his gaze raked over me from top to toe.

"Turn around."

I opened my mouth to object, but got a look which told me that I'd be sorry if I did, so I obeyed, slowly turning on the spot for him like some kind of eye candy. It was humiliating and I was tired, which led to me suddenly feeling my eyes burn, which only added to the humiliation. Slade didn't seem to notice, though, he wasn't exactly looking at my face.

After a full turn he gave a short now. "I think it will do nicely."

"What will?" I asked. "Sir?" I added quickly.

"You'll see later. You need to shave. Do that and then get the laundry going, don't forget the clothes in our bags, and-" he sniffed his own shirt before unbuttoning it and sliding it off, "this too." He threw it into my arms, turned around and walked away.

The washing machine and the dryer were both Swedish, of course, but 'kulörtvätt' and 'vittvätt' just _had_ to mean 'coloreds' and 'whites', right? After changing into my last pair of clean underwear and a tank top I collapsed on the sofa just as the door rang.

"Dinner," Slade announced.

I groaned, but my stomach was making louder noises and I remembered that I hadn't really eaten all day. I'd bought a hot dog at the train station when we arrived but that's the only thing I've had since breakfast.

It turned out to be an some kind of Asian cuisine, I was too tired to even try to figure out from which country. I was in charge of cleaning up, of course, as I apparently was the maid as well as the apprentice. I just hoped Slade wouldn't get me a separate uniform for_ those_ duties. When I was done, I went back to the couch. I didn't bother with a blanket. I fell asleep instantly.

It was dark when I woke up, and something had disturbed my sleep. A sound? Yes, a beep! Ah, damn, it was the washing machine. I grumbled as I put the load in the dryer –I had thrown everything in at 40 degrees because fuck it− and then I went back to the horribly uncomfortable yet beckoning couch. I had closed my eyes for three seconds, at least I was fairly sure it was about that long, when my master decided that he hadn't done enough to me in one day.

"Get up."

"Wha-? huh?" I wasn't awake yet, but I already knew that I didn't like whatever he had just said.

"We're going out. Get dressed in these clothes."

My bleary eyes looked up at the man and I swear that I almost somersaulted over the back of the couch. Slade was wearing leather. And I'm not talking a biking outfit, oh no. I'm talking full 'leather-daddy-harness-tight-pants-chains-leather arm bands'-outfit. I swear I almost died.

"What in the name of-?!"

"Like I said, we're going out. We're meeting the client at his club and we need to blend in."

Fearfully I looked down at what he had suggested I'd wear. "Oh… god…. no…?"

"Hurry up. And no underwear." With that he disappeared into the bedroom and I hurried up, because I wanted to avoid giving him another show.

No underwear, he had said, but he needn't have bothered, because there was no way that they would fit under those pants. They were leather, but unlike Slade's, mine were the length of daisy dukes and the material was sliced in a lot of places, even at the back. Nice. Not. Then for the boots, which actually reminded me a bit of my old ones, just with more buckles. They looked pretty normal up to the knee, but then there was a series of 'belts' going up the rest of the way to the edge of the pants. It kinda reminded me of garters, which wasn't funny.

The top looked like a mix between a waistcoat and a corset and I took a quick whiff of it. I couldn't help it, but I've always liked the smell of leather. I had even thought of incorporating some in my uniform, but it didn't really work with my colors; I didn't like the brightly dyed stuff. Maybe, some day, I'd change my look, and then I'd make sure to choose something dark. I was busy struggling into that when Slade returned, now wearing a short leather jacket over the harness.

"Let me help you with that," he said and, once the front was zipped up, he tugged at the corset part in the back.

"Uff! I wanna breathe, please!" I groaned.

"Don't complain, apprentice, it's for a mission."

"No? Really? And here I thought you just wanted to play dress up."

My mouth earned me hand gripping my neck hard. "You need to practice being submissive and you should start right now."

"Yes, Master," I sighed and then let him put a wide, black leather collar on me. It locked in the front with a padlock, and from that a chain hung like a leash. He then handed me a wide leather cuff but stopped me when I was sliding it on.

"Wrong arm. The right one."

"But you have yours on the left?" I said. Slade had two: one circling his upper arm and one his wrist and lower arm. The upper one really looked good on a muscular arm, I noticed.

"Exactly," Slade said, and for a second I thought he had heard my thought, but then I remembered what I had said.

"Okay, I'm lost," I admitted.

"It's code. If you wear chains, keys, wrist cuffs etcetera on your left side, it signals that you're a top." He gestured to his belt where, and I kid you not, handcuffs and a goddam _paddle_ hung! I've only seen those on sex store sites! Oh, come on, don't look so shocked, you have browsed a few of those yourself.

"… you don't have to tell me what the right side means, then." I gulped.

"Good. Then act like it."

"Um, just one question? If you're a top, why do you have a… a… harness? I thought maybe bottoms…?"

"Common misconception. They can be worn by both. It gives you something to hold on to when things get… bumpy," he leered down at me, and I had to swallow again. "Now, I've called a cab, put these on and we'll go."

"Thank god," I sighed when I saw the sweatpants and normal looking jacket. If I had walked out the door dressed like this I wouldn't have been able to show my face around Stockholm again, ever. "Where are we going?" I asked as I was covering up.

"A night club."

"And here I thought it would be the library," I muttered. "What kind of club? Like I can't guess."

"It's not a leather gay club if that was what you thought," Slade told me. "Not exclusively, anyway. It's an underground club where anything goes, but yes, it carters more to the… let's say rougher and kinkier clientele. Sometimes illegal too."

"Will I even get in? I'm seventeen."

"You understand the terms 'illegal' and 'underground' don't you?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"Well, then, let's go have some fun shall we? And don't worry, I won't let anyone touch you. At least not as long as you're a good boy," Slade told me 'reassuringly'.

I think he was joking.

I _hoped _he was.

For some reason he grabbed a canvas bag on the way out. He had put on clothes over his outfit as well, and the taxi driver didn't give us any weird looks until Slade told him the address. To be fair, though, I was looking strangely at Slade as well, because he had said something which ended in 'gym'.

And yes, once we arrived it _was_ a gym. A twenty-four hour one, by the looks of it, and not very big. Slade handed a card to the receptionist, who showed us through a door behind the desk. Then we went down a set of stairs, showed the card to a man looking like the sort of bouncer you didn't want to mess with, and after giving us a key he opened a door to- a locker room. Okay, so that was slightly anticlimactic, but it made sense: people couldn't come to a secret club dressed the way we were underneath, after all. Slade opened one of the lockers with the key he had received and began shedding his clothes.

I knew I would be ordered to do the same, so I just went right ahead and followed suit. I mean, why give him the pleasure of ordering me to strip? Again? He put our clothes in the bag, but first he withdrew a couple of more items; a leather muir cap with a silver American eagle on it, which he donned, and-

"Hankies?" I gaped.

"Yes." He sorted through them and handed me a bunch in different colors. He handed me a black, a blue, a light blue, and a gray. He kept one of each color as well. "Put them in a belt loop on your right side."

"What do these mean? Is there like a 'catch the flag' game going on, or what?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Not quite. It's called the 'hanky code' or, in fact, 'flagging', among other things. It's to signal to others what you are into.

"And what are we '_into_'?" I groaned.

"The black is S&M, the gray is bondage, and the dark and light blue is anal and oral respectively."

"I don't want to wear these! I don't like any of that stuff!"

"Don't knock it 'til you tried it," my 'master' said airily. "Besides, it's not like you have a choice and I could have given you a red one."

"What does red mean?"

"Fisting." My brain had just locked down, so I didn't respond, but Slade simply went on. "Now, I'm going to pass you off as my new toy," he said and grabbed the chain connected to my collar. "You better act the part. The job depends on it."

"What is the job? Are you going to kill someone in there? Don't you think I should _know_?"

"We're just here to meet the client… and maybe the victim as well."

"They are both here?"

"Yes. And they are twins."

_To Be Continued..._

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A/N: I want to point out that although all the hard facts should be correct I have no idea how inside of buildings look and such, so just smile and nod. ;)  
The next chapter SHOULD be up within a week, depending on if I get a beta or not.

AN: edit: thank you to MissND (not logged in) who pointed out that Robin put the hankies on his left side, not right, as it should be. It's fixed! :)


	5. Stockholm Stories, part 2

A/N: Here it is, part two! This part of the story has 4 parts, the others will be up when they are beta'd… betaed? I have no idea how to write that... Speaking about betaing; thank you **Fluffy09** for being the beta for this chapter! All the remaining errors are all mine… especially as I'm stubborn and refused to changed some things into comprehensible sentences… ;)

* * *

**The Good Boy **

**Stockholm Stories, part 2**

The next door we went through lead to yet another hallway, and then, finally, we entered the actual night club. It seemed to be like a maze of rooms of different sizes, spread out under the gym itself. Music was thumping from a few of them, from others there were… different noises.

I coughed as the air was rather filled with smoke. Cigar, mostly, but cigarettes as well. And probably some other stuff.

"It's okay to smoke here?" I muttered.

"It means something that goes against the law of the country."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I'm explaining what 'illegal' mean, as you clearly didn't know it after all. Now shut up and be cute. At least shut up."

I did. I didn't know what to say anyway. The noise, the smell, the people… dear god, the people. And animals. Dogs, mostly, but I think I heard a sheep from one of the rooms. There were women here to, different ages and sizes, so it wasn't only a gay club, just like Slade had said, but_ most_ people were male. I think. It was hard to tell sometimes.

We got a few looks and leers, but Slade didn't stop until he reached a guy with a shaven head, decked out in a similar outfit as himself, but in chaps and a leather thong. Pretty. Especially as the guy had a gut, was quite hairy and in his early forties.

"Anders!" Slade called out heartily, and the guy lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Well. He smiled. Happily. At seeing was clearly something wrong with him.

"Wilson! Glad to see you in my club again, it's been a while. Oh, and who's this?" He looked me up and down like I was some kind of treat. Maybe I was.

"Just a slut I picked up back in the states. Say hello, pet."

I almost said 'hello, pet', but I managed to stop myself. If I was rude it was probably expected of Slade to use that paddle, and I think he'd be happy to do it.

"Good evening Sir, it's an honor to meet you," I said, lowering my eyes to the ground.

"Oh, well spoken for a pet too, such a sweetheart." the man, Anders, chuckled. "Come sit on my lap, cutie," he offered, gesturing to a red leather coach.

"Business before pleasure, I'm afraid," Slade interrupted him.

"Aw, the same old Wilson, aren't you? You got yourself a boring Master there, boy," the man sighed, but made it clear to follow him. I didn't comment. I'm not _that _stupid.

"Leif! Here's the guy I wanted you to meet. Leif, Wilson, Wilson, Leif. He can take care of your little problem, don't worry about it." Anders beamed like he thought he was just the nicest guy around. Maybe he was. Well, apart from me, anyway, but I didn't count myself as part of this crowd.

Slade shook hands with the man I had figured out was our true client. He was in his fifties, lean, with a thick Van Dyke beard, and he was wearing leather as well. I noticed, however, that he had handkerchiefs on both sides, meaning, I supposed, that he was versatile. The colors were different, though. Yellow. I had a feeling I knew what yellow meant. Dear god, I was actually happy Slade hadn't once of those. Pink, though? What could that be? He also wore a collar, but it was pretty loose, so maybe it didn't mean anything.

"_You_?!"

For some reason the client didn't seem happy to see us.

"You've already met?" Anders asked, looking lost.

"Met? This is the guy! The bastard! Remember? You left me tied up, my ass black and blue, covered in wax and piss and you _didn't even fuck me_!"

If you thought Slade would apologize or back off in any way, you obviously haven't met him. Lucky you. Instead my 'master' suddenly grabbed the guy's collar and yanked him up to eye level.

"How _dare_ you question your Master?" he growled in a way that made _me_ tremble. "I gave your spoilt little ass _exactly_ what it needed, and as I remember it, you came three times. And you _dare_ complain?"

"No- no, Sir!" the formerly so angry Leif now stuttered. "I- I'm sorry! Let me… let me make it up to you."

The last part was said in a voice which was getting sultrier by the second. Was that how I was supposed to sound? Disgusting!

"Make it up to our dear host. Right now. And if you're a good boy I'll still consider taking the job." Slade more or less threw the man on the floor while I was dealing with this awkward feeling I got when he called someone else 'good boy'. I shrugged it off in time to see Leif crawling on his knees over to a pleased looking Anders, and reaching for his fly. My eyes darted to Slade, wanting to ask if this was really happening −right here in front of us− but his gaze was locked on the scene, a small smirk playing on his lips. The creep was enjoying this!

"Watch this, pet," he told me. "You might learn something."

I learned something, alright. I had never seen anything like this before, not _live_, and I learned that the noises are much different for one. It also didn't take as long as it seems to do in pornos, but the minutes were still causing deep scars in my apparently sensitive soul. Thanks, Slade.

Then I remembered something. Had the guy said '_piss_'? Had _Slade_…? I glanced up at the man again, and felt a spike of fear. It wasn't the 'shit, I'm gonna die!' kind of fear, somehow it was _deeper_, or at least on another level. It was a realization that I didn't _know _this man. That Slade was a stranger and he was holding my future, my very life, in his hands... and I had no idea who he was! Somehow, I had told myself, fooled myself, into thinking I _did _know him. I don't know how it happened, but I thought I did. Obviously I was wrong. The question was: _how_ wrong? Did he have a reason to get involved like that with the guy on the floor? Was it something he _usually _did? And –crap− did he expect_ me_ to participate?

"Finished? Good, then let's talk business." I heard Slade say, and was awakened from my deep, disturbing thoughts. A tug on the leash showed that I wasn't aware enough, because I hadn't noticed that they had begun walking.

We, literally me, were led to a small private room where brandy and cigars were offered to Slade, who declined them both. The men were seated in deep, soft leather arm chairs, and I was made to sit at Slade's feet. Lovely. Soon the room filled with a heavy, blue smoke which made my eyes water. They say cigar smoke smells good, but I've never been able to stand it. Maybe it was a bit better than cigarettes, but only a little. I guess my position, close to the floor, had some benefits.

"So, I heard that your brother has something in his possession you would like to own?" my 'master' began.

"Yes, exactly. Ancient Chinese ceramic figures. Grave goods."

"And how come you're jealous?" Slade asked snidely, clearly showing how childish he thought the man was.

"It's not that! We inherited some objects from our great aunt. We both got to pick things out, but he was there first. I didn't make a fuss at the time, because the figurines really don't look like much, but then he had them valued. Ten million."

"Dollars?" Slade asked.

"No, of course not! Kronor! But that's a lot of money either way."

"So you want someone to steal them? A simple theft? You_ do_ know what I charge, don't you?"

"Well, it's not… as simple as that. You see, the pieces are up for auction. In four days."

"So they are already at the auction house. That's not a lot of time but it might actually make them easier to get at than in a private home," Slade shrugged, and I had to stop myself from nodding. The thing about private homes is that people tend to be, well, _home_.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this with your boy here?" Anders cut in.

"Yes. He's in training. I train him in my bed at night and out in the field by day. Or the other way around, rather, with our hours. He's _very_ keen to learn, aren't you pet?"

"Yes, Master." I didn't miss a beat.

"There's… one more thing."

"Yes?" Slade was losing a bit of his patience, I could tell.

"My brother is... suspicious. If these pieces are stolen, he will suspect me. Fortunately, there's been some… ill will between Sweden and China lately, something about a spy and some other business… there has also been objections to the auction. Several things are grave goods and items that are now forbidden to be exported from China. We have the documentation to prove that our things were removed long before the prohibition, but voices have been raised saying that all items should be donated back to the country. The Chinese are, of course, welcome to bid at the auction, and they do, driving the prices ridiculously high, and more and more objects are suddenly 'found' in people's homes. People are starting to smell something rotten, you know?"

"Yes, yes, so what do you want?"

"A terrorist attack. The auction house has their last viewing tomorrow evening, and the next morning the pack things down for the actual sale. If the exhibit was to be destroyed before then…?"

"So we don't have four days, we have to do it tomorrow night? Lovely." Slade was not happy. "And I suspect you don't want your items destroyed?"

"Oh, no, I already have a buyer."

"Very well. Virtually no time to plan. You better have blueprints of the building."

"Um… no, but... but I have the auction catalogue?" The man handed Slade a glossy looking thing. "I've marked my items."

"But no plans of the building? No photos?"

"Well, Wilson," Anders cut in again and smiled pleasantly. "You can always go to the viewing…?"

There was a bit more of to-and-fro. Slade set the price at fifty thousand and five percent of the selling price for the rush job. The fifty thousand was to be paid at once and the rest after the sale went through.

"And if I don't see that money within two weeks, I'm going to make sure I'm free to do another job here in Sweden. Pro bono." I think Leif got the drift. They shook hands and then Anders drew a huge, dramatic sigh of relief.

"Well, that was business, now to pleasure! Come with me, gentlemen, and let's have some fun, eh?"

'Fun' consisted of looking at scantily dressed men and women on a stage, doing all sorts of things from stripping, to pole dancing to… well, things that should only be done in the bedroom. If you're married. And the curtains are closed. Still, it was pretty hard not to look, especially as Slade had made me straddle one of his thighs, my back resting against his shoulder. He claimed he had done so only so it would be possible to talk to me through the noise, but we could only exchange a few words when our host and client left or weren't paying attention. It had turned out that Leif's twin brother wasn't here tonight, but I can't say I was particularly disappointed. Besides, I was busy being annoyed.

"Stop touching my thigh!" I hissed at Slade when the others were out of earshot.

"You're right," he surprisingly agreed, but then mover his hand to my crotch instead.

"Hey! What-"

"Quiet. If I'm not touching you, someone else is going to ask to, and if that someone is Anders, it's going to be very rude of me to refuse. Besides, I'm mostly just pretending."

I glanced down and saw that, yes, the man's fingers were moving in a very suggestive way, but I didn't feel it much of it; they were hovering just above my body. It was dark enough in here so it would be impossible to detect.

"Relax," he muttered in my ear.

"Easy for you to say," I growled back.

"Just trust me."

I almost laughed in his face, but a derisive snot would have to do. "As far as I can throw you."

"That's not good enough."

"What? What did you expect?"

"I'm your Master. Yes, I'm forcing you to do things against your will, yes I will punish you if you disobey, but I will also teach you everything you need to know to survive in this world. I will look out for you. I won't let anything bad happen to you, meaning that you're safe with me. So trust me. Pretend you're enjoying yourself, or our host will soon try to 'rescue' you."

"Fuck…" I sighed but leaned my head back against him, forcing a slight smile to my lips. My hand went to his other thigh and I started to caress it slightly. His feather soft touches were starting to have a very unwelcomed effect on me, and I wanted to make him uncomfortable too, if I could.

"Your boy must be thirsty, here you go, pet!" Anders had come back from a trip to the bar and was bringing drinks for everyone. He shoved a glass in my hand as well and I glanced up at Slade, who gave me a curt nod. I wasn't really comfortable drinking at all, especially not in a place like this, but the smoke had gotten to my throat and the contents of the glass looked like orange juice.

It tasted of orange juice and fire. Still, by the third sip, it was rather nice. As Slade and the others were speaking of things that didn't concern me; world news, comparing different kinds of brandy and such, I went back to lazily watching the show. At one point someone took the glass away, and I think it was empty.

The people on stage were really good, I suddenly concluded. I huffed in disappointment as a guy stopped the striptease when he was down to his tiny, tiny- wait, why was I watching _him_? There were naked tits all around him, for crying out loud! Still, I guess he was just a good dancer… he made a performance out of it, and his ass was-

"Mmhhh…" I blinked when I heard the slight moan, because it was definitely coming from me. Weird. I was all… tingly and dizzy and kinda impatient for something to happen, and-

"Did you slip something in his drink, Anders?" Slade suddenly rumbled. I giggled a bit, because he sounded like a lion.

"MUFASA!" I snickered and reached up to pet his muzzle. Well. His nose, it turned out, but still.

"Well, I-" our host started.

"Don't bother, I think it's safe to say you did. Dammit, Anders, I told you: he _works_ for me! He's not just some dumb bitch I fuck, he has to be alert and on his feet in just a few hours!"

"Nothing to worry about, he'll bounce right back. I only gave him a little," the man defended himself.

"Give me a little…?" I grinned up at Slade for no reason.

"Be quiet, close your eyes and try to go to sleep," he ordered me.

"Not sleepy," I mumbled sleepily. I moved around a bit, trying to get more comfortable until Slade sighed and simply_ arranged _me so I was sitting across his lap instead, like a child, curled up against his chest. I was too tired to object. Besides, I was pretty comfortable, and I hoped Slade _wasn't_. So… win?

I don't know how long I was asleep, but the first thing I noticed when I woke up was the wonderful scent of leather. Leather and clean skin. Just the faintest hint of soap or shampoo. I nuzzled closer and drew in a deep breath of it. Mmm. Flowery perfumes could go to hell, this was the best smell I've-

It suddenly hit me that I was sniffing Slade. We were moving, he was carrying me somewhere.

"Wha-?" I croaked, trying to fight the forces of dizzy which had occupied my mind.

"Good, you're awake. We're leaving. I've dressed you, can you walk by yourself?"

"Mm-hm?… Sure… sure…"

I couldn't. Not straight. Not on my feet.

"Anders has arranged a car for us, I'll just carry you there." My 'master' sounded quite annoyed, which brought a smile to my lips, simply because I knew that this wasn't _my _fault. He couldn't punish _me_ for being drugged, after all, and that was bugging him to no end.

"Ha!"

"You think this is funny?"

"Shit, did I laugh out loud?"

"Yes you did."

"Shit, that too?"

"Yes."

"Fuck…"

"I'd love to. It would be so easy in the condition you're in. You probably wouldn't even remember."

"Wh-what?" the shock made me a little more alert.

"Oh, did _I _say _that_ out loud?" He smirked down at me.

_Bastard_, I thought. Hopefully.

I can't remember much from the car ride, just the sensation of being outside and then the sound of an engine.

I was laid down somewhere and there was a liberating feeling as the corset thing was removed. Then a click as my collar was unlocked and then-

"…No…" I feebly objected. "Wanna keep… my pants…"

"Your outfit was just a loan, it is going back, and these are coming off before you puke on them."

"But I… no underwear…" I mumbled.

"Just keep still."

I had a very weird déjà vu feeling at that moment of Alfred telling me to take my medicine when I was sick. I don't know where it came from, but I guess I was in no condition to argue even though I wanted to, so I just gave in and let it happen. I think I fell asleep again in the middle of it.

When I woke up the next time I knew where I was; in a bed. Meaning_ Slade's_ bed. For a second I panicked, but he wasn't in it with me, in fact he wasn't even in the room. He must have heard me, though, because he walked in, just as I discovered that I was naked and indignantly pulled the sheets up. Can you do something indignantly when you have no dignity left? I don't know.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like shit."

"Get up, I need you to work on something for me."

"Sick day?"

"No."

"I'm calling the union," I muttered, but got out of bed with as much spring in my step as your average ninety year old. I eventually found my clothes and decided I had to speak up. "This seeing me naked- thing has to stop," I told Slade, who had been busy, I saw. There were papers and stuff everywhere.

"Why? It's the highlight of my day," he mumbled distractedly as he was writing something down.

"But-"

"Apprentice, sit!" he ordered and pointed to a chair in front of his laptop. "I need you to look into the Chinese side of this 'disagreement' in Sweden. Are there any specific groups or persons behind the protests? I specifically want you to find a symbol or symbols that we can leave behind as a calling card."

"Fine."

"And I don't have to tell you what happens if you decide to send any messages?"

"No."

"Good. Let me know if you need to eat."

"Yes, Sir." My stomach didn't seem up to digesting anything. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Six. We have twelve hours until the last viewing of the objects, and then another five until it is go-time. You are in charge of the cover up, I'll handle security."

It felt so wrong to admit, but Slade saying 'you're in charge' actually made me straighten up a bit. I hated myself for it, but it was the nasty truth; it felt kind of good.

_To be continued…_

* * *

A/N: so this was part 2/4 and you now know what the mission is. So what can go wrong? Nothing. Everything will just go smoothly and by the end of it Slade admits that he's being a bit of a bastard and lets Robin go. Robin then has wild sex with him before returning to the Tower and his friends, to just take extended holidays with Slade every other month. The end. Now you don't have to read it. Or I lied, and things will go just a tiny bit wrong. We'll see.


	6. Stockholm Stories, part 3

**A/N: **Soooo sorry for the long wait, but it's the weather's fault: ice storms in the U.S has taken away my beta's internet, so this chapter is NOT betaed. Also, my laptop is in the shop for a few weeks so… yeah… I'm not a happy camper right now, I can't play Sims or anything! GAH! Oh, well, I'll live. Hopefully.

* * *

**The Good Boy **

**Stockholm Stories, ****part ****3**

I had to work for the results, though, it turned out. Hacking into Chinese servers because they had blocked them form access from the West, for example. It took some doing, but eventually I found a group, the Green Dragon, who seemed to be very vocal and threatening about Chinese objects being sold outside their country. I had no idea who they were, they might be a group of little old professors and grandmas who just didn't like their country's historical treasure scattered, but they had sent several somewhat threatening letters to museums all over the world.

"I have our scapegoat," I announced rather proudly. It had taken almost two hours.

"Good, write down their name or symbol, and try to memorize it. Then go drink some water and take something for that headache."

"What heada- oh… ooowww…" I groaned and rubbed my temples. I honestly hadn't noticed it as long as I was busy, but now it hit me full force. Somehow Slade must have noticed, though. "I want something to eat too. And a shower."

"Yes to the food, no to the shower," the man said.

"But-"

"And I don't have to remind me not to object, do I? I still have the paddle and the handcuffs."

"No, Master," I muttered.

"And you should ask, not demand."

"Sorry, Sir. May I have some food?" I was just too mentally exhausted to even think about snapping back, I just wanted to be allowed to go and find those painkillers.

"That's better. You may. Dismissed."

I shuffled to the bathroom, found painkillers, continued to the kitchen where I grabbed a glass of water to wash them down and then made myself a small sandwich. My stomach was still not one hundred percent sure it wanted to eat, but I knew I would only feel worse if I didn't. Or I'd throw up. It was a bit of a gamble at this point, to be honest.

When the food had settled, which it luckily did, I entertained the thought of trying to sneak away for some more sleep, but I was pretty sure I'd get introduced to that paddle if I did, so I reported back to the 'boss'.

"You look like crap," he told me, and had the gall to look amused.

"My master wouldn't let me take a shower," I pointed out. "And I still don't understand why."

"Because you'll take one later, before we are about to go to the viewing," Slade explained. "I thought you could do with some exercising before then, so a shower would be wasted.

"Oh, okay. Sounds reasonable," I had to admit.

"Of course it is. Did you think I'm enjoying smelling the cigars, booze and leather on you?" he snorted.

"No!"

"Well… continue thinking that, then…" he chuckled. I gave him a disgusted look. He seemed to be in an unusual good mood, though, especially considering our deadline. Things must be coming together with the planning, then, that was the only reason for his sunny disposition, I thought. Not smelling me. Yuck.

My thoughts were interrupted by him handing me a few photos and a sketchy floor plan.

"Look these over. These are the items we are going to steal, and the plans are what I've been able to piece together so far. We'll see when we get there if they match up, but then we'll need a few more escape routes."

"So going in the front door is a no?"

"I know you're new to this, but robbery and front doors rarely go together, no."

"I was being sarcastic." I rolled my eyes. "Besides, where are you going to get explosives from?"

"That's no problem, I'll make them myself."

"Oh, great. In the kitchen?"

"Best place for it."

"May I read these outside? Say about a few hundred yards away, at least?"

"Very funny, apprentice. Now get to work. I have some shopping to do. Once you've finished you can start your workout routine, but after last night, take it easy and rest if you feel dizzy. Don't forget to drink more water."

"Yes mommy- I mean, Master."

He gave me a sharp look, like he was considering some punishment or other, but then sighed and made a small 'I give up' gesture. It should have made me feel triumphant, perhaps, but the way he did it, it just made me feel _childish_. Damn him! He even made me feel lousy when I _won_!

I sighed and sat down on the couch with the documents. I knew that I must get this right, and I didn't mind a whole lot, actually. I mean, no one would get hurt, it was just things and it didn't seem that Leif's brother would be poor for losing the ceramics. In fact, they had to be insured, right? So both twins would get their cash. The auction house would take a bit of a whooping, but hey− strictly selfishly speaking; if could be a worse mission.

I shivered and had to swallow when the face of the man I had killed briefly floated past my inner eye. Bad things had already happened, it wasn't like I was about to forget that any time soon, but we could be heading towards a situation where many people could get injured and killed, and we weren't: the house was empty. Unless there was security? I made a mental note about that.

There really wasn't much to learn, and I was pretty sure that I could pick out the figures among the rest of them once I had finished. I went to get some water, and after downing two large glasses I decided to be a good boy and start exercising, although mostly it was because I wanted to. I changed, warmed up and then did some stretches and yoga positions. I moved on to doing kata and somewhere around there I literally felt my headache just melt away. If it was the painkillers or the extra water finally kicking in, or maybe just moving which made it happen, I didn't know, but it felt great. I started moving faster and decided to practice some fancy kicks, which were more fun than actually useful, but you never knew.

"Trying to impress me? How sweet."

It was a good thing that I've heard Slade open the door, or I might have fallen on my ass.

"Never, Master," I deadpanned.

"Well, you're not succeeding. What's with those high-kicks?"

"What? I'm just seeing how high I can go?" I defended myself grudgingly.

"Let's see how effective they are, then," Slade said and held his palm up as far up as I could go with one foot still on the ground.

I hit it, and I hit it at hard as I could, but his hand barely budged.

"Now, try _this_ height," he said and lowered it a couple of inches. This time I made his arm move. "I _felt_that. Good, very good. See? _Efficiency_will win you the fights, not pretty show tricks. Aim no higher than this for a standing kick."

"But your _face _is up there, Master," I smirked.

"If I wanted my face caressed by your toes, I'd let you know."

"Ew. Kinky."

"You have _no_ idea. Well, actually you _do_ now, so stop fishing for a demonstration."

"I wasn't!"

"You are. Every time you think you are funny."

"Oh."

"Remember that. So, did you look at the material?"

I told him I did and we went through the plan for a while before he ordered me to get back to training while he worked on something in the kitchen which I'd rather not be anywhere close to. I work with explosives too, on a very small scale usually, but I have always had a proper lab and meticulous instructions. I'm not one for experimenting in that area unless I absolutely have to. When my grapple hook goes off I don't want it to take my arm with it.

I trained for another half hour and then asked permission to stop and finally take that shower. I was allowed to and sighed in relief as the hot water blasted down over me. I leaned my head back against the tiles and fully intended to rack up Slade's hot water bill, hoping that wasn't included in the rent.

As the steam rose I started to smell what he had claimed he could: booze, cigar smoke and above all else; the leather. I rubbed my hands over my arms and chest, but that only led to me remembering how the clothes had felt, clinging to me like a second skin. Being dressed, but feeling naked. In public. How people had looked at me, both men and women. It had been kinda− aaaand I was hard. I groaned and grabbed my length. It wasn't like it had gotten its usual amount of attention since I became a prisoner. None at all, really, but it kept trying. I fully intended to just squeeze it and then turn the cold water on but somehow my fist began sliding up and down instead. Images of all those boobs I saw last night started flickering in front of my eyes, until I was very close, and then the male dancer made an unscheduled appearance. I didn't care, I let him, but it was disturbingly enough the vague memory of something else that pushed me over the edge.

I washed up quickly after that threw on fresh clothes, and tried to act normally when I reentered the living room.

"That took a while."

"I− just needed a proper shower," I said, trying not to blush.

"Yes, that's good when you're stiff."

The man hadn't looked up from the screen and showed no signs that he had meant anything else but stiff _muscles._ _Gawd_, if he had heard…? But with the water running, and I had been careful not to make any noise and−

"So… you're done with the explosives, then?" I finally managed.

"Yes. They are not much more than fireworks. We're just trying to destroy some pottery, not bring the house down."

"Good… good... Um, I've been thinking, what about guards?"

"There's a firm checking the place every two hours, apart from alarms, so we should be good. Our main problems are the windows as any light or movement might be spotted by passersby."

"The windows didn't look that big, though… I mean, it's not like there's a storefront, right?"

"No, it's a good thing that it's an old building, but the area is a busy one so we have to be careful. The blast will be reported pretty much immediately."

"Then set it to a timer?" I suggested.

"I didn't have the time to be fancy, we only have about two minutes, at the most."

"You're disappointing me, Master. Aren't you supposed to show me your _best_work?" I said dryly.

"And now you're back to asking for it. But I actually agree, tonight will be a bit… sloppy. On the other hand, it might be fun." He gave me the kind of half smile, half smirk which seemed to suggest that I should agree about the 'fun' we were going to have. Personally I was mostly worried.

"What happens if something goes wrong. Not just on this mission, but on any? Something that is not my fault? If I, or both of us, gets arrested?"

"If it's my fault or just a coincidence, you don't have to worry about your friends. Not as long as you don't talk. But I fully expect you to do anything to avoid getting captured, is that clear? _Anything_."

"Yes, Sir."

"And I'll get you, or both of us, free, don't worry. And again: I expect your cooperation."

"Yes, Master."

"Good boy." One of his eyebrows rose. "Why are you blushing?"

Because he had just reminded me of when I had come, but I wasn't going to tell him that, of course.

"Just… warm from the shower."

"You don't have a fever, do you?"

"No."

"Good. You are free to sleep for a few hours. In fact I shall too, in a bit. It can't hurt to be well rested, especially after last night."

I nodded and locked eyes on the sofa, but just as I took a step towards it, Slade raised a hand. "Take the bed. I have a few phone calls to make, you wouldn't get any rest."

I shrugged and headed to the bedroom instead, closing the door behind me. The bed was unmade, and I pushed the comforter aside. As my head hit the pillow I smelled it again: smoke and leather.

"Damn…" I groaned and curled up a little. The last image in my mind in the shower, the last sensation, had been the blurry memory of being curled up in Slade's lap and −I winced as I forced myself to acknowledge it− feeling the bulge of his crotch against my ass. GAWD! WHY? Why the _hell _would my brain bring _that _up, just when I was about to come? Stupid, fucking, _idiotic_ gray mush! It served it right to be drugged up last night, I should bang my head into the wall to punish it a bit more…

Eventually I tried to regain some sense of reality by convincing myself that it was just one of those random things. It didn't _mean_anything –_certainly_ not– apart from maybe being afraid of getting caught. I fell asleep feeling a tiny bit better about it all.

The smell was a mix between soap and wet dog. It wasn't bad at all, the last thing actually reminded me of Beast Boy a bit, but the scent puzzled me, until I realized where it came from: someone who had just showered. But to be able to smell it you had to be close up, and I generally weren't face-to-face with my team mates right after a shower. There was something like privacy and personal space. And then there were people who didn't care about those things. Like Slade. It was him I was smelling and he was _very_ close. Ridiculously so. He was spooning me. Full body contact and, one of his stupid beefy arms was around me as well, like I was his personal body pillow.

"Hey!" I objected and try to sit up. The arm tightened though, not only keeping me firmly in place but also almost emptying my lungs. "Slade!" I wheezed. Then I decided that he might ignore me because I wasn't using his damn title, and added, "Master?"

"Hmm?" He barely sounded awake.

"I'm not in the mood!" I grunted.

He muttered something which almost sounded apologetic and turned around, his breathing deepening at once again. He probably never really woke up.

I sat up, about to make sure that there was at least_some_distance between us, when I was treated by the view of naked Slade-ass. He had been spooning me _nude_?! That was just going too far! I then noticed the towel, which had slipped off his hips and hoped that meant that he hadn't _intended_ to. Any of it.

It wasn't possible for me to go back to sleep with naked Slade right there. I noticed that I actually _called_ him 'naked Slade' because my brain couldn't quite process that he was the same person as my supposed 'master'. It was too weird. After a final glance at the nude man I escaped to the living room and headed towards the uncomfortable couch instead, because I wasn't finished with my nap yet. Before I lay down I noticed that Slade's super-slim laptop, which had been hooked up to the apartment's printer, wasn't on the table anymore. There was no reason for him to hide it from me, as it locked up tighter than Fort Knox when no one had used it in only a short while, and then I spotted it in a small satchel bag which seemed to be equipped to carry the ceramic figures in. I could see foam creating four compartments which appeared to fit the figurine's sizes. He was bringing the computer? Why? Although as it was so small and light he often had it with him, but not on our last mission as far as I knew. Oh, well. Who was I to question they amazing mind of my great Master? I snorted as I stretched out. It took longer this time, but I eventually dozed off.

* * *

"What are you doing in the living room?" Slade, dressed in just a pair of jeans, but at least _dressed_, woke me up by asking.

"There are fewer molesters out here. Well, until now. Master."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say that you get… friendly in your sleep," I muttered. I felt my cheeks heat up a bit and couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Did something happen?"

"You probably had a childhood dream and thought I was your teddy bear," I shrugged.

"I see."

"I'd really appreciate it if you could keep your distance. And your clothes on. And stop undressing me. Or making me get naked."

"Yes," Slade gave me a smirk, "you've said as much before."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes. Perfectly. I know you'd appreciate it," the bastard said and walked away.

"I'd also appreciate kicking you in the balls," I muttered.

"Drop and give me fifty," Slade ordered from the kitchen.

"What? You couldn't have heard that!" I exclaimed.

"Didn't need to, apprentice. Do you want it to be seventy?"

"No, Sir," I sighed and hit the floor.

Fifty pushups weren't enough to work up a sweat for me, I just got warm, meaning that the shower earlier wasn't completely wasted.

Just as I was done, the doorbell rang.

"Get that, it should be your clothes for tonight," I was ordered.

He was right; Anders was standing outside with a few of those dry cleaning bags over his arm and two cards which he handed to me. They looked like invitations and had the logo of the auction house on them, but I of course couldn't read what they said.

"Um, thank you. Would you like to come in? Master is in the kitchen, I can call him?" I said.

"He's got you well trained, hasn't he, you lucky bastard," the man grinned. "But no, I have to get back to my club. I don't normally run errands, but Slade happens to be a very popular customer when he stops by."

I had to swallow some bile as I tried not to imagine anything. "Master does that often, then?"

"A few times a year, usually, but he's been busy lately. With you, I expect."

"Yes, Sir," I tried not to sigh, because I expect I was supposed to act flattered or something.

Anders' phone rang and he handed me the clothes before he answered. He waved to me and left. I closed the door, sincerely hoping that what I was carrying wasn't made of leather.

It wasn't. It was a nice suit, although nothing spectacular. It seemed we needed to be dressed nicely to get in, but Slade still didn't want to stand out. When he changed –choosing a suit from the apartment's wardrobe− that plan fell apart a little bit, I thought, because no one would overlook _him_. He was just too big, and even with the glass eye he was too… _exotic_ looking. There was no way you could just ignore him, he-

"If you're done drooling over me, apprentice, it's soon time to go, so get ready."

"I'm not-"

"-ready, no, I can see that. At least comb your hair or people will think you're a dressed up homeless person."

I seethed as I went into the bathroom. I looked good in a suit, I _knew_ I did, and after checking myself out in the mirror I couldn't see much of the 'homeless'-thing, apart from the fact that my hair was a bit messy. I brushed it and wet it a tiny bit to make it stay back. When I kept it spiked up it didn't matter that it was getting long, but now it was falling in my eyes and tickling my neck. I didn't want to style it, however; the more different I could look from 'Robin' the better. I _could _do with a haircut, though.

"I'm finished, Master." I gave him a cold look as I told him this. He ambled up to me, straightening my tie and collar –though both were perfect to begin with, because I knew how to fucking dress. His thumbs brushed my neck as he did it and I felt a shiver travel up my spine. The touch seemed to linger, and when he finally stepped away I realized that I had been holding my breath.

"There, let's go. Keep your eyes open."

I nodded. I would. This was a rather simple robbery and I wasn't getting caught. Well… to make sure my friends were safe, of course. You know what I mean. Although it would have been embarrassing to be arrested over something like _this_.

The viewing was full of people with more money than was good for them, mingling, drinking bubbly and eating miniature sandwiches. There were several rooms, built after themes like a museum, and as far as I could tell the items on display were all top notch. Asia seemed to be the main theme of the auction, partnered with items connected to the Swedish East India Company which was founded to trade with the Far East in 1733. I read that on a label, and yes, it was in English. Actually it was in at least ten languages and I heard several of them while I took in the scene. It seemed like many of the objects might find homes abroad. Well, if they weren't destroyed tonight. I felt guilty about it, but they were still only _things_, not people.

Slade was in full work mode, so I couldn't really just enjoy the artifacts. He nodded to a door in the back with an official looking sign on it, saying –I guessed– personnel only. At least it said "personal" and one more word, so… I knew what to do and, making sure no one was looking, I tried it. It was open. Then my luck ran out.

"Ursäkta, övervåningen är endast för anställda," a woman dressed in a sharp business suit told me with a stiff but polite smile. I had no idea what she had said, but I had a feeling it was something along the lines of 'keep the fuck away'. But nicely.

"Excusez-moi," I answered in French. If she would remember me, I'd rather she remembered a French teen, not an American one. "I was looking for the bathroom? Someone pointed me in this direction?"

She nodded and showed me the way. I sent Slade an apologetic look, but he shrugged in a 'you can't win them all' kind of way. I sighed in relief as I pretended to visit the bathroom for show. He wasn't angry. Good.

When I came back Slade had the same woman up against the wall, but not in his usual by-the-throat way. Oh, no, it was all smiles and eyes glittering and words softly spoken –in flawless French from his side, I noticed.

"I've never seen so much beauty in Sweden before," Slade purred, making the woman –a hostess or whatever she might be− blush and me gag a bit. I melted back into the crowd but kept close enough to be able to see them, and pick up a word here and there. I did a bit of lip reading too.

"Well, there are some old auction catalogues upstairs-" was the next thing I heard the woman say.

"Well, then how about you invite me up to see your catalogue collection?" Slade half laughed, half purred, sounding like embodied seduction.

"I couldn't−"

"Please."

A single word. Just one word, said in exactly the right way, combined with a feathery touch to her arm, and she buckled. I almost couldn't blame her. I started to wonder if Slade had a hidden superpower in his voice…

They went upstairs and I didn't see Slade again for forty five minutes. I was actually beginning to think that he had ditched me and was unsure how I felt about that when he showed up again.

"Where did you go?" I hissed at him.

"I had a look upstairs. Have you seen what you need to see?"

"Yeah, at least three times by now−" then I spotted it. The smudge of lipstick on his neck, half hidden by his collar. "You _didn't_-?" I gaped.

"Why not?" he smirked, and gestured for me to head out before him.

I couldn't let it go, though. It was like a mature zit; it needed to be poked at.

"You actually… up there? With her? Just now?" I asked as we walked down the street, back towards the 'old town'. It wasn't far to the apartment, not even a kilometer, although we had to cross a bridge to get there.

"Who knows when I'll get the chance again, you _are_ a bit of a dampener on my sex life, you know."

"Well, _excuse_ me! I'd gladly go home and let you fuck your way through Sweden!"

"Why did that sound slightly jealous?" he smirked.

"Because, with all due respect, Master; you're delusional," I growled.

"I apologize," he said lightly. "It's the afterglow."

The retching noise I made in response wasn't _all_ fake.

Once we got back we made some small adjustments to the plan and went through it a couple of times. It was quite easy. I was going to paint the symbol I had found everywhere, while Slade snatched up the 'order' and set the homemade bomb.

"The only thing that troubles me is that I didn't count on all the fake walls," Slade said. Once there it had become apparent that –to be able to fit all the art in and change it for every viewing without destroying the original walls− the auction house had built simple walls in front of many of the real ones. They probably re-plastered and repainted them for each major showing, because some of them had had been completely covered with paintings and other wall art.

"Are you afraid they will collapse?"

"Collapse, work as tinder..." the man shrugged. "We're supposed to destroy a very small part of the exhibition, not the whole block."

"Aw, and you care! How sweet!"

"I care because out escape route is up over the roofs, and I don't want them collapsing under us. Fires can be damn quick sometimes."

"So… how do we not die, then?"

"I'll run some calculations," he said and patted the satchel bag.

_Ah, so that's why he was bringing the laptop_. I nodded. "Don't fuck it up."

"Language, Apprentice. And some of that trust, please," he smirked. "Besides, it's supposed to look like it all went wrong. I'm going for a scene where it seemed that the Chinese were trying to destroy everything, but their homemade bomb failed."

"Wow, do you know the character's names as well?" I said dryly.

"Robin, Robin, Robin…" he sighed condescendingly and shook his head. "When you do something like this, when you want to blame someone else, it's all about creating a story. Something that makes sense, for the cops to believe in. You can't give them pieces of a puzzle which doesn't add up, if you do, they will start looking for the pieces you don't want them to find."

"Fine, fine, you're an artist," I muttered, silently wondering how many of those 'stories'_I_ had fallen for myself.

"Yes I am. And you'll learn."

The hours crawled by. We ate. Rested. Eventually it was time to leave.

Again, we walked. It was a bit after one in the morning but unfortunately it was Saturday night and people were still out and about, which became a problem once we got to the auction house. We had to climb to the roof of a building close by to get to our goal, but we had to wait for two groups of people to amble past –one of the groups singing loudly− before we could get our grapple hooks out. Neither of us were masked, because if we were seen the description of two men in black and orange wouldn't quite fit into the 'story'. We were, however, wearing ski masks, although we hadn't pulled them down yet, of course, so they looked like beanies.

Eventually we were able to pull out our grapple hooks and climb the roof. From up there we couldn't be seen from the street as we silently ran along the crest towards the target building. There was a bit of a drop from this roof to the other, but the houses butted up against each other and there was a wall mounted metal ladder available. I was first down the thin iron rungs and noticed that there were quite a bit of rust on it. As I continued I saw more indications that it might not be as stable as it had looked from the ground. Slade had started climbing too, and as I didn't want to be crushed under him I called out a warning.

"Dammit, Swedes are usually anal about keeping things like this up to code," he muttered. I couldn't help a well hidden grin. I very much liked it when things didn't go Slade's way, although unfortunately that meant that they weren't going my way either at the moment.

We made it down, though the ladder was making ominous sounds, and I made quick work of the door leading down into the building, as well as the simple alarm system. We were more or less flying blind for this bit; there was no way we could have been absolutely sure there would be a door, but when Slade had been on the second floor he had seen an emergency exit sign pointing to a stair, so it was a guess which had paid off. There was always a way in, though; a hatch, a window, but I liked doors. Doors were easy.

"We have one hour until the next security check," Slade told me, checking his watch. "Let's go."

Once we got down to street level it wasn't that easy, though. It appeared that the small park, which the house was situated by, was quite popular with the late night crowd and it seemed that there were movements and voices outside every few minutes, meaning we had to work in the dark and keep still or duck frequently.

My job was spraying the symbol on as many areas as possible, some of them far enough from the site of the explosions that they would be unharmed. Slade, in the meanwhile, was busy placing out both the explosives which were meant to go off and those who were supposed to 'fail'. He picked up the ceramic figures once he was done.

"Try drawing a few marks on the door too," he told me and pulled out his phone, snapping a picture of a finished symbol. "I'm going to add one by the ceramics. It probably won't make it, but they might see traces of it."

He used the photo as a reference, I saw, to make sure he got the symbol right. I had had time to practice it and knew it by heart, but Slade was a perfectionist and didn't want to ruin my good work. If the letters looked sloppy, like the one writing them had no idea what he was doing, the 'story' might get questioned. We finished at the same time, he put the phone in the bag and gestured to me that it was time to leave, before igniting an old-fashioned fuse leading to the packages he had stacked up.

As soon as he did that, however, he froze and I heard him curse.

"Dammit, we have to destroy the other figurines!" he ordered. "Grind them to a pulp if possible. I want to make sure that they can't tell that three are missing."

"Brilliant, and you _just_ thought of that?" I hissed. Crushing china quickly and silently was a bit of a problem, and when we left we were in a hurry. I was running over the roof when I heard the first muted 'boom'.

"Move!" Slade snapped and I scurried up the ladder so quickly that I left him behind. He followed, though, but he had only reached about half of it when one of the rungs snapped under his weight and one side came loose.

I reacted on instinct, laying down flat, grabbing the ladder and reaching down towards him, trying to catch his hand. He was just a little bit too far down, though.

"I'll find another way. Here, take them. We'll meet back at the apartment." Slade said and threw the bag to me, before simply letting go of the ladder and dropping down, landing like a cat on the roof below.

I caught the bag and took off.

It's funny how the brain works. How memories can be triggered and suddenly flash before your eyes. In my case it was two images. The first was the laptop sticking out of the bag. The second the cell phone sliding into the same. Which I was now carrying. The phone and the computer. The only ways I knew which Slade could hurt my team… and I had them both. I literally had my freedom in my hands. All I had to do was run.

_To be __continued…_

* * *

A/N: There. Sorry again. I promise you'll get the next chapter in a few days, but that will most likely not be edited either. Now all I have to do is to try to upload this one… hmmm…

Edit: Fantastic, when I uploaded the file it mashed words with italics together with the next words. I don't know why. I hope I have fixed most of it. So tired. So done.


	7. Stockholm Stories, part 4

**A/N: **Here it is, the last chapter of this arc. The contents are not my strength, but I hope it's okay…

* * *

**The Good Boy **

**Stockholm Stories, ****part ****4**

I _did_ run. The whole time I was arguing with myself, though. Part of me still felt that it wasn't worth it. That I should go back to the apartment. Like a good boy. After all, I had nowhere to go. I didn't know exactly where I was. More importantly; I didn't know where _Slade_was.

On the other hand, I'd never have an opportunity like this again. The phone and the computer were mine. I had even checked so they were both in the bag before taking off, because I'm not an idiot.

What to do with them, though? The answer was glittering all around me: water. I'd throw the whole bag in the sea. It was quick, and Slade wouldn't be able to recover the bag because he wouldn't know where it was. With the porcelain figures inside, it was heavy enough to sink quickly as well, and if it ever was found… well, my friends would be warned long before then and hopefully I'd be able to rejoin them.

I hesitated a little at the thought. I had wished for nothing else since all this started; go home to Jump. Be a Titan again. Now, however, there was a hint of a sour taste in my mouth when I thought about it. _Could_ I go back after what I'd done? Could I be their leader again? Fight in the same way? Believe in the same things? This short amount of time had changed me, I could feel it. My core had just slightly… shifted.

Now I had a goal though: to get to water. And as Stockholm is built on a bunch if islands, that wouldn't be a problem; I was literally surrounded by the stuff.

However, as I couldn't take the planned route, I had to find my own way off the roof –unseen− and make it to the water front. Dilly-dallying had already cost me a bit of time. Soon Slade would be at the apartment and he would almost instantly ask himself why I wasn't there before him. If I was lucky he would wait five minutes, but luck like that didn't come around often.

Eventually I found myself on street level, missing the handy fire escapes I was so used to in Jump. Seemed the Swedes preferred to burn. Oh well, it was a cold country, maybe a house fire only was cozy to them, who knew?

The stress was clearly getting to me, those weird thoughts being proof of that, so I took a deep breath and set off running. A moment later I heard sirens and a couple of police cars dashed by. I was able to duck into a side street just in time and cursed. I had forgotten about the explosions! The cops seeing someone running from the general area of a fire… well, they would be pretty stupid not to at least take his name and number, right? So no running. Witnesses might point in my direction too. I tried to look like I didn't have the devil at my heels, which I rather literally had, and finally, _finally_, between two buildings, black water reflected the city lights, beckoning to me.

I got there and looked around. No one in sight. Good. One more moment of hesitation. I could still go back. Claim I had to hide out for a while. It wasn't improbable. He'd believe me.

No. This was it. This was my chance. I took the satchel bag by the strap and raised my arm, ready to fling it into the depths when my wrist was caught in a vice like grip.

"You've been a bad boy, Robin," I heard before something hit me in the back of the head and I blacked out.

* * *

When I slowly came to I immediately felt two things; I was hanging from the ceiling by my arms –which was rather hard to miss− and that the blow to the head hadn't been the only thing keeping me under. At some point I had been drugged as well. Was it scary that I could tell the difference? Well, there _is_ one. Hopefully you won't get the opportunity to compare. At least not enough times to be able to tell the symptoms apart.

Even though I had been out, it was like some part of me had been screaming this whole time, and a soft 'nooo!' escaped my lips as I was fighting towards the surface of consciousness.

"Good morning, Apprentice. Up early? Thought you might be."

I raised my head, reluctantly, and looked around. We were in a dungeon. A literal straight-from-the-medieval-times dungeon.

"You've_got_to be kidding me," I muttered.

"I thought you'd appreciate it. Anders is letting us use it. You should thank him."

Then I started to notice all the things wrong in the room, like that the stone actually looked a bit molded, and yeah, the electric socket was kind of a clue too.

"Thank you, Anders," I snorted.

"No need, no need." A voice suddenly said behind me. I spun a little on the chains to see if it was really him, but I needn't have bothered as he came walking up to me, caressing one of those damn porcelain figurines. "Your Master tells me you were about to lose these. Very sloppy. I'm glad he'd decided to punish you." He gazed lovingly down on the ugly trinket as he caressed it. "Owning something this beautiful, rare and precious is a very special feeling. you see."

Slade chuckled. "I know exactly what you mean." I saw my 'master's' eye traveling up my body to settle on my face, as he gave me a small smirk. That was the moment I knew that, whatever else he might do to me down here, he wouldn't kill me. That didn't mean I wouldn't wish for it, though.

It was now I realized two things about what we were wearing; I was completely nude, and Slade was back in his leather outfit, sans the cap. My eyes automatically focused on the paddle on his belt.

"You're gonna spank me?" I said, trying to sound defiant, which wasn't easy with a dried out mouth and a throat which felt like I had been swallowing sea urchins.

"This," he said, gesturing to the black rubber thing, "is for _fun,_ Robin. _We're_ not going to have fun. Well… at least _you're_ not. Thank you Anders, I assume you'll make sure we won't be interrupted?"

"I can't stay and watch?"

"No. This is personal."

"Well, I have to get these babies to safety, anyway," the man said, raising the figurine. "Let me know when you need the cleanup crew to come in."

_Oh, great, didn't THAT sound fantastic._ I was slowly waking up enough to start to feel afraid. I tried to clamp down on it. I had faced what had seemed like certain death before, this was only certain _pain_. I hoped. If he hadn't-? The Titans! Had he hurt them? Would he? I didn't dare ask, I didn't want to draw any attention to them. If he wanted to punish just _me_, that would be great. Well. You know. Not great-great, but… yeah.

I expected a speech, but got a question.

"Why?" he asked, not sounding particularly angry or upset.

"Why do you think? I thought I could get away with it." I sneered. "I would have, if it weren't for you pesky old-" the backhand strike hit me so hard that large black dots swam before my eyes for several seconds after. I slowly turned my head forward again. "Well, you _ask_-" A second strike landed on my other cheek.

"A bit more respect, Apprentice," I was told. "Snide remarks are _not_ the way to go, trust me."

I glared but kept quiet. Letting him do the talking was probably best.

"Let's see…" he said, walking around me looking at the walls, which were cluttered with all kinds of very unpleasant looking things. "You try to escape and would have destroyed both my property _and_ the client's. Not very nice, Robin. So how should I punish you?"

"Make me eat my vegetabl-OUGH!" Kick to the stomach. Okay. Shut _up_, Robin! I can be such an idiot sometimes, it's not even funny.

"I think we have to go with something a bit more painful. Still, I can't cut anything off, that will take a bit too long to heal…"

I bit back a sarcastic 'Yay!'.

"This might work," he said and picked something from the gruesome display. He pushed a button and a spark shot from the end of the stick-like thing. A cattle prod. "I'm sure it's somewhat tuned down for human use, but it should still smart," Slade said thoughtfully. I was positive it would and tried to pull away as he slowly got closer, but of course that was no use.

The dual metal tips got closer and closer and I sucked in my breath as they finally hit my chest. Nothing. Just cold. He hadn't pushed the button. He ran the prod along my body and I tensed more and more, knowing that at any moment… as it came to rest by my groin I closed my eyes and started cursing silently between clenched teeth. Thankfully it soon moved again, around my hip, across my ass and then –ZAP!–

The pain was short but intense, probably made worse by the anticipation too. The next jolt came high on my back, then one on my thigh, my arm, my chest, my stomach… Each time my body twitched, my muscles seemingly trying to tear away from the bones, but I kept it together. Clenched teeth, focusing on my anger, trying to block the pain. Then, suddenly, something seared across my back. He had changed tools to something new, a whole new kind of pain. My mouth tasted of blood; I had bit my cheek at some point. Again pain burned over my back, and now I realized what it was: a whip or a thin cane of some kind. I could hear it swish through the air.

Somehow I was now made aware of other pains: my arms and back throbbed as I could barely touch the floor. My neck and head ached from both the punch and from the position my head had been in while I was blacked out. It hurt, but it was background pain, painted over in big splashes of fresh, biting agony from the whip. I grunted between clenched teeth, trying to keep it all inside.

"There. Now I've taken my anger out on you."

I looked up. Was it over? Already?

"Now," Slade continued, "we can begin."

It had been a whip of some sort he had hit me with. He was still holding it as he walked into my line of vision. Only the very end of it was a cord, the rest was thin rubber or plastic or something, which explained why it didn't feel like, for example, a bullwhip. I had been on the wrong end of Catwoman's once or twice so I knew to be grateful for _that_.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Robin," Slade continued. My eyes followed him warily as he walked around the room, studying the things on the wall. His bag –the damn fucking bag− was laying on the table, mocking me. "You betrayed my trust, and our client's. I assume you understand that you have to pay for that?"

As it was a direct question I thought I should answer, but I didn't dare do it with anything other than "Yes, Master." Call me a coward if you want. You're welcome to take my place.

"Good. We're going to play a little game here. You tell me when you think you have been punished enough. Just say the word 'stop'." He raised a hand as I opened my mouth. "But-" he added. "If I don't agree with you, I'll do everything over again from the beginning, repeatedly if necessary, until I'm satisfied. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then we'll start. I think ten more lashes to get us warmed up, don't you think?"

That was probably a rhetorical question, so I didn't answer this time. My already sore back tensed up, causing pain to ripple through it even before the first strike landed.

I got through the ten strikes. It was easier, somehow, when I knew what to expect and for how long. Afterwards, he touched me with his hands. I knew the caresses weren't meant to be soothing, and was proved right when his thumb suddenly dug into my shoulder. I had kept fairly quiet up until then, but now I screamed. The pain was like an explosion of molten lead inside my body, and it didn't stop. I threw myself against the chains to get away from his thumb, but he only pressed harder. When he finally removed it, I was gasping for breath so hard that I saw black spots in front of my eyes again. His hands continued to move.

Pressure points. I knew what they could do, I knew where most of them were, at least I had thought that I did. Over the next hour Slade gave me a very thorough education, though. Sometimes it felt like he snapped bones, dislocated joints, but apart from a dull ache at times, the pain instantly stopped when he took his hand away. Like it was never there. I wanted to tell him to stop so many times, but I didn't dare. He had me screaming until my voice was almost gone and once I felt hot fluid gushing down my leg. For some reason I thought it was blood at first, because the finger he had pushed into my side at that moment, felt like it was splitting me open, but it wasn't. It was urine. I had lost control of my bladder. He told me not to worry about it even before I was aware that I was stuttering out apologies. I just didn't want him to punish me for _that_ too.

"Moving on," he finally said. I was shaking in cold sweat from top to toe as he came up to me once more, with a box. It was a regular, cardboard one, just big enough to fit in one hand. It was filled with small plastic things, but I couldn't make out what they were until he picked one up and pressed down on it, opening it up. They were like small, wide, plastic clothespins. My eyes widened when I saw the small metal 'teeth' on the inside, like tiny needles. The clamps looked small, though… could they really hurt?

They could.

He started slowly, placing some on the underside of my arms, then the back of my knees. The initial grip hurt. Then it got worse. It was like the pressure slowly increased. I know it _didn't_, but that was what it felt like. My back got a row of them as well, then my neck. I tried to pull my head away when he placed a few on each eyebrow, but he held me still. My jaw line was next and I whimpered in pain by now. One on my bottom lip made me yell out.

Top lip. One more on my bottom one.

"Stick out your tongue, Robin."

"No, stop!" I cried.

He stepped back. "Are you absolutely sure?"

At first I didn't understand what he was talking about, but then I realized that I'd said the code word. I felt tears trickling down my cheek as I stared at him. It had felt like I've had enough a long time ago, but would Slade agree? What if he started over? The pressure points… I couldn't…

"No… no… I'm sorry… I…" I sobbed.

"Very well. Your tongue, then."

I hesitantly opened my mouth. The clamp bit into it like it had been a knife, and I screamed again. The teeth dug into the soft flesh so deeply and I felt the taste of blood again. Now I couldn't swallow properly, though, and soon blood-tainted saliva began running down my jaw. I didn't care about that, though, because Slade had just put one of the clamps on my right nipple.

I'm not sure if I blacked out, maybe just my brain did, but the clamp on my other nipple sure woke me up. Then his eye travelled lower. I shook my head frantically, the clamps all pulling at my skin when I did. Those black spots appeared again, larger than ever.

He lifted my penis and snapped a clamp onto the skin between the base and my testicles. My balls were trying to creep back up into my body by now, but he managed to secure a few on the sack itself anyway. Next I started to desperately wish –for the first time in my life− that I was circumcised.

I don't know how, but I endured three more clamps somehow, and then I heard a sigh.

"Aw, seems like we're all out."

The box was empty. There were no more. I broke down and cried, sobbing and shaking hysterically while every ragged breath, every tremor, sent new stabs of pain through me. But at least there were no more clamps.

"Guess we have to remove them, then," Slade said.

I completely agreed and silently pleaded with him to start. He began with my tongue. He ripped the clamp off the tip off it, and a gush of blood accompanied my scream. Not only did the pins hurt, the sudden loss of pressure seemed to somehow cause me great pain too.

"There must be a quicker way to do this… ah, I know," Slade said and grabbed the whip. he walked behind me and swiped it down over the row of clamps down my back, yanking them off my skin, leaving tiny tears in their wake.

That was more than I could stand. Still, it hurt so much that he had time to remove the ones on my legs and arms in the same fashion. Just as the whip swiped over the ones on my stomach I managed to cry out.

"Stop! STOP! Ph-please… please…"

"Are you sure this time?"

The thought of the whip hitting my face and genitals made the answer fairly easy. I still hesitated, though. What if…? "Yes… yes, please, please stop, I'm so-sorry, I'm so sorry, I… I won't… I won't…. never again… I'm sorry…" I blabbed, barely able to for a coherent thought, much less a sentence. I lisped quite badly too, with my swollen, injured tongue. I stared up at him, pleadingly. The sounds I was making where no longer human, they were whimpers and whines. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at his feet, as long as he pain would go away. I'd do anything, _anything_! Please, please, PLEASE!

"Alright. I'll just remove the others by hand and you're done."

It was like all the tension in my body just left and I sagged in my chains. Yes, it hurt like hell when he took the remaining clamps off, but it was okay. It was okay, because it was over.

Once he was finished, he walked over to the table. He did something, but I barely had the energy to focus and his body blocked my view.

"Now," he said, turning around, "there's the small matter of your team."

I think my heart stopped for a while. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't accept it. No. No. I realized I was yelling it out loud only when my face was slapped.

"You knew the rules, boy."

"But… please, Master, please don't! Please!"

"Well, you have already taken quite a punishment," he said thoughtfully, and I felt a little dash of hope. "So I'll just kill one. Choose." He stepped to the side and I was greeted by the image of my friends, at home in the Tower, watching TV on the couch. I could practically smell the room, feel the warmth of the sun filtering in through the windows… Whatever they were so avidly watching seemed to be ending, because Cy and BB got on the floor and pulled out their controllers. Star and Rae turned to each other and were talking. There was no sound and the picture on the laptop was too small for me to read their lips. The guys were soon into their game when Slade reclaimed my attention. "Choose," he repeated. "Who dies?"

I was lost in the precious images of my team, so he had to repeat the order. I grew cold and shook my head. I couldn't. It wasn't possible.

"It's one or all of them." He was holding his phone now, thumbing the buttons. "But I guess I can pick for you. Starfire."

"No! Not her! No!"

"You like her, don't you?" The question threw me. Of course I liked her! I loved her! She was family! "Raven, then?"

"No! Not… not any of the girls," I choked, feeling horrible.

"Beast Boy."

"No! He's… he's the youngest, I… I can't… Slade, please, don't do this!"

"Cyborg is the only one left then… either pick him or one of the other or they all die. I'll count to ten. One."

Cyborg.

"Two."

My friend who could be so serious and so goofy.

"Three."

Who was more metal than man.

"Four."

Who had – and please forgive me for even thinking this−

"Five"

But… he had already been given a second chance.

"Six."

And maybe, just maybe, he would be okay.

"Seven."

Maybe he could restart?

"Eight."

Maybe there was some sort of backup?

"Nine."

Maybe-

"Ten."

"Stop! Stop, I'll… I'll choose… I'll choose him."

"Say it. It's best to be clear in these cases or I might push the wrong button. Who will die?"

"C-Cyborg."

"As you wish." Slade stepped up to the screen. "Let's zoom in a bit, shall we?" When I saw the screen again he had done just that, and then, suddenly, my friend was falling backwards, crumpling, twitching, glowing from the attack of the nanobots.

"NOOOO!" My scream turned silent as my voice failed me completely. Slade stopped the camera, freezing the image of my dying friend.

"I hope you've learned your lesson."

I couldn't speak, or think, or barely feel. It was just over. I fell to the floor a moment later; I hadn't even noticed that he had come up to me to release my bonds. I rolled over, curling in on myself, whimpering as my arms and back started to burn. They had gone more or less numb, but now the blood was rushing back. My hands were ice cold.

The floor was wet. My back stung where the wetness had touched it and I realized that I was lying in my own piss, the salt in it tormenting the wounds after the clamps. I didn't care, though. It seemed like a good place to lie. Forever.

I've had enough. I just had. I couldn't care less what happened to me now. Maybe it was some kind of self defense that my mind just shut down. I was conscious, but was barely aware of being picked up, of hot water, of having to swallow something… and then it was dark.

* * *

I woke up back at the apartment. I recognized my surroundings at once, I took in everything: I was in the bed, I was wearing underwear and a t-shirt, my whole body hurt… I just couldn't remember exactly why for several seconds. Once I did, I curled up again, trying to sink back down into oblivion where all this wasn't real. Where it was all a bad dream. Where Cyborg wasn't dead. Unfortunately I wasn't allowed to pretend for long.

"You have slept for twenty four hours, I think that's enough."

Hearing his voice again sent a rush of fear through me, like I've never felt before. I startled and then tried to get on my feet, but it was no use. I was as weak as a kitten.

"Don't." Slade told me and pushed me down fully on the bed again, rolling me over on my back so we faced each other. "I've given you quite powerful muscle relaxants, they should help with any lasting soreness. You'll be fine tomorrow."

I just looked at him flatly. How could he think I'd ever be 'fine' again? He smirked a little, like he knew what I was thinking.

"I have a question for you," he continued. "It's a very important one. I want you to think before answering. Your punishment, Cyborg's death… whose fault was that?"

I didn't have to think. There was only one answer.

"Mine." I croaked silently, my voice just barely holding.

He smiled approvingly at me. "Good boy. Now, I need you to listen very carefully, Robin." I nodded, and his smile widened. "I knew you would try to run or send a message to your friends. Actually you held out longer than I thought. I think you have more fun than you want to admit."

"F-_fun_?" I objected shakily. "I didn't-"

"Shh… don't try to speak too much or you'll be hoarse for weeks. But yes. You don't want to admit it, but you haven't exactly suffered under my rule, have you? The Russian operation went a bit… wrong, and I'm actually sorry for that. I didn't want that to happen to you. Not so soon."

His voice was so soft, so caring, at least compared to his usual tone. It was scary, but I believed him. It was like I didn't have a choice. One of his hands was caressing my cheek, pushing my hair out of my eyes, swiping up a few stray tears which had suddenly fallen.

"But I knew you would try to escape," he continued. "It wouldn't be like you if you didn't. I gave you plenty of opportunities, but you were smart. I was proud of you. I still am. I had planned on giving you the bag, but I hadn't planned the ladder. I just barely caught up with you in time."

"But… it was a set-up?" I whispered.

"More or less, yes."

"Wh-why?"

"You needed to try. You needed to get it out of your system."

"But… but Cyborg! I… I…" I was unable to finish the sentence and felt myself shaking against his hand.

"That's a puzzle. One I knew you would be too far out of your mind to solve yesterday morning, but now you should be able to spot the clue now."

"Wh-what?"

"The clue. What didn't make sense?"

"I'm… I'm…" my mind was racing. What did he mean? I replayed the scene with my friends in front of my eyes. I had been relieved to see them well. They had seem okay. Maybe –if I was being selfish− a bit too carefree, just hanging around in the middle of the day instead of−

I gasped.

"Ah, I see you got it."

"The sun… it was daytime. It was morning here, it should have been night. Unless you lied?"

"I didn't lie."

"Then… then… what happened couldn't have happened last night…" My heart started beating faster. "What does it mean? When did you kill him? Are they alive at all? _Any_ of them?"

The laptop was suddenly in front of me, angled so I could watch the screen. It was still frozen on the moment that Cyborg fell over. Slade pushed a button and just a few moments later the glow stopped and Cy sat up, shaking his head, looking puzzled. I could see the rest of the team worrying, but he just pressed a few buttons behind his chest panel, shrugged and were soon playing with Beast Boy again.

"He's… he's not…?"

"He's alive and well. A far as I know, anyway. This was shot a few days ago."

"Is… is that the truth?"

"I'm not lying to you, Robin."

"But− but why? I− I−"

"Firstly, I want you to remember the pain of your punishment. Remember that _that _was _real_."

I nodded. It was real alright. Still was.

"Good," Slade continued. "Now, as why I didn't kill your friend… as I said, I set you up. I _planned _for this to happen. Killing one of my leverages would be a sacrifice that wouldn't have made sense. Besides, it was hardly fair."

"So you… prepared the recording? But how did you- how did you know I would choose Cyborg?"

"Because I know you. I also geared you towards that choice. Next time, however… next time everything will be real, _and_ permanent."

I made up my mind then and there.

"There won't be a next time, Master. I won't risk their lives again. The world needs them –four heroes– more than it needs me."

There was pride in Slade's smile once more. Pride I secretly wished I had seen more from Bruce, growing up. Pride I was ashamed I reveled in. The words he spoke next felt soothing as well.

"Good boy."

_The End (of the Stockholm arc) _

* * *

A/N: there it is! Now it's over again… ;) Send me suggestions for future missions, here and on facebook! I HAVE started a new arch, but don't expect to see a new chapter for a while, okay?


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